Chapter 6 – Pain and Power

"Ah!"

Padmé fell to her knees, her body wracked with an indescribable pain. She looked up through tear-stained eyes.

"Master, please."

Palpatine had no mercy for her. "Get up."

She did so, legs wobbling precariously. "I can't do it."

He took a few steps toward her. His expression was even, patient. There was no disappointment to be found, but neither was there any encouragement.

"You wanted this, Padmé."

"I do, Master! I want to learn."

"Then you will try harder."

"I am trying!"

A renewed wave of electricity struck her, not strong enough to knock her off her feet but certainly vicious enough to cause excruciating pain.

"Use it! Your anger, your suffering! Use it all!"

Padmé screamed, but when she raised her hands to lift the globe, nothing happened. Once more, she fell to her knees.

"I can't. It's too heavy."

She heard Palpatine approach, his footsteps loud against the marble ground. "Why do you want this?"

Padmé adopted a resolute expression. "I want to be strong."

"But why?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Why now? You were never interested in the Force before. So what changed?"

Palpatine loomed above her and Padmé had to crane her head to meet his gaze. Again, there was nothing malicious in his demeanor. He did not derive any satisfaction from hurting her like he did with others.

"You know I will always protect you, don't you? I will always be there for you."

Padmé bit down on her tongue. "But you weren't here, were you? I was all alone."

"You weren't in any danger."

"I wasn't, but my people were. They died, Master! People died to protect me from those droids!"

Palpatine leaned forward. "And how does that make you feel?"

"Powerless! Weak!"

Palpatine shook his head at this answer. He turned around and paced away toward the globe. It was perhaps six feet in diameter and made of solid granite. Ensconced atop a curved platform, the globe had hardly budged from its perch in the hours that Padmé had been attempting to move it.

"You are not weak, Padmé. You are a queen! You are powerful!"

She leapt to her feet and shrieked at him. "I could have saved them! I could have protected them! But you never trained me! You said I didn't need it! You lied!"

Palpatine eyes flashed as he turned around. His thin lips stretched into a smile. "Good. Use that anger. That hatred! Use it!"

And just like that, she was ensnared in lightning once more. Her vision turned red and she screamed until her voice turned hoarse.

"Lift it, Padmé! Lift it!"

She thrust her hands into the air, but whereas last time she had hoped for nothing but the end of the pain, this time Padmé embraced it to make her stronger. The globe rose out of its plinth at her command, hovering a dozen feet above the ground. Shoulders trembling, Padmé kept it suspended for a moment longer before collapsing. There was a deafening thud and the marble ground cracked on impact, jagged fissures erupting in every which direction.

She was sobbing, the pain of the lightning gone but the anguish in her heart far from relieved. How many had died in her name? Dozens? Hundreds? And what had it all been for?

"You did well, my dear."

A soft touch on her shoulder had Padmé looking up. Palpatine seemed somber, sympathetic even.

"Why does it have to be this way?" she asked him, voice trembling.

Palpatine kneeled down and took her face in his hands. "Pain is the way of the Sith. It is horrible, but it is necessary. This way, we are stronger. This way, we are impervious. Do you understand?"

She didn't. How could she possibly understand?

"Yes, Master."

Δ Δ Δ

A heavy hood obscured Padmé's features as she walked down the bustling street. In the absence of the sun, garish neon lights illuminated this lower level of Coruscant. Aliens of all types milled about seemingly without purpose, drifting and dwelling in the shadows. A fair few eyed her closely, perhaps noticing the expensive fabric of her cloak or the purpose of her gait. She was an upsider, and that made her a target down here in the deepest and darkest slums of the capital. Nobody approached her, however. She exuded confidence, competence, and an air of something more sinister. The filth knew better than to mess with her.

The crowds parted before her as she marched along. While she had initially dreaded making the trip down here, Padmé couldn't deny that she took some pleasure in embracing this mysterious character. The anonymity was empowering, the intimidation intoxicating. Perhaps this was how her master felt all the time.

The thought of Palpatine caused her lip to curl. It was because of him that she was down here in the first place. For months, she had been searching for the proper way to exact her revenge. Her master's near-omniscience made this exceptionally difficult, even with Dooku as her secret agent. His services to this point had been thoroughly lackluster. It seemed Palpatine kept him in the dark more than Padmé had realized. Yet he had finally proven himself useful by providing her this snippet of intel from his connections with the Pyke Syndicate. With so few opportunities to strengthen her hand, Padmé had been quick to pounce at the opportunity.

She took a turn down a dark alley, the noise of the main street quickly fading. Her footsteps echoed loudly, and all pretense of a surprise arrival was all but dispelled. No matter. Padmé didn't mind if her target knew she was coming. There was nothing they could do to resist her, anyway.

The address Dooku had provided her seemed to be a mechshop of sorts, although Padmé couldn't know for sure. It wasn't as if she knew the first thing about such establishments. A garage door was open, revealing the shop's dingy interior. A swoop bike was suspended on a lift beside a work bench made of corrugated metal. An assortment of power tools were strewn about the floor beside a young woman in a ferrous welding mask. She was oblivious to Padmé's presence, too busy with her repairs to notice her. Yet Padmé's arrival had not gone undetected, as she had expected.

A back door swung open and out burst the person she had been searching for: Ahsoka Tano. "Trace! Stop what you're doing!"

The young woman lifted the grill of her mask and gave the Togruta a perplexed look. "What is it?" Ahsoka's eyes darted to Padmé and Trace followed her gaze. She let out a startled yelp and leapt backward.

"Leave," Padmé commanded.

Ahsoka stepped in front of the helpless girl, an arm extended defensively. "Find Rafa and get out of here, you hear me? Go."

"But Ahsoka –"

"Do it!"

Trace hesitated before doing as Ahsoka asked. She tore off her helmet and stumbled away toward the open door. When she was gone, Padmé took a step forward.

"Who are you?" Ahsoka asked, knees bent and fists raised.

Padmé looked her over. It had been several months since she had last seen her. In that time she seemed to have matured a great deal. She was wearing a blue jumpsuit, her belt conspicuously lacking a lightsaber or weapon of any kind.

"You are coming with me," Padmé said finally.

"You're a Sith?"

"Of sorts."

"Then I'm not coming."

Padmé smiled thinly at the young woman's spirit. It was too bad she had been corrupted by the Jedi as long as she had, but now she was free from their influence. There was hope for her yet.

"This is hardly a debate, I'm afraid." Padmé thrust out her hand and Ahsoka was thrown off her feet. She flew away several feet before crashing into the back wall. As Padmé approached, Ahsoka picked up a wrench and struggled to her feet. She raised the makeshift weapon, fear shining in her eyes.

"Stay away from me!"

Ahsoka reared back and threw the wrench at Padmé with all her might. With a casual swipe of her hand, Padmé deflected the projectile. She frowned at Ahsoka's impudence.

"Now, now. There's no need for that."

She raised two fingers and released a single pulse of electricity. Ahsoka fell to the ground and cried out in pain. Knees tucked into her chest, she shied away from Padmé's looming shadow. The pitiful sight gave her pause.

"Look at you: Festering in the slums with the dregs of the universe. You are destined for so much more, Ahsoka."

"I'm not joining you."

Padmé tilted her head. "Don't tell me you're still loyal to the Jedi. They abandoned you."

Ahsoka craned her neck to meet Padmé's shadowy gaze. She frowned, fear giving way to curiosity. "Who are you? How do you know so much about me?"

With a wave of her hand, Padmé removed the hood and revealed herself. She smiled at Ahsoka's incredulous reaction, jaw slackened and eyes bulging from their sockets.

"Padmé?" she gasped.

Her smile darkened. "I am your new master, Ahsoka Tano."

Δ Δ Δ

Padmé glanced at Ahsoka out of the corner of her eye. She had given her the cloak to wear once they had returned to Coruscant's surface. The cowl didn't fit particularly well, her pointy montrals poking out from underneath the fabric, but Ahsoka did just manage to cover her head. The journey back to her apartment had been made in complete silence after Padmé had made it expressly clear that she wouldn't answer any of Ahsoka's questions until they were in private. And so here they were in the elevator, the rapid cadence of Ahsoka's foot tapping against the ground the sole sound.

Padmé breathed a sigh of relief when they reached her floor. The elevator doors opened and she gestured for Ahsoka to step off first. She wasn't letting her out of her sights for an instant.

"Celine? Is that you?"

They arrived in the living room to find her mother seated on one of the couches, a datapad in hand. When she saw Ahsoka, she quickly jumped to her feet. Padmé cut her off before she could ask.

"Where's Sola?"

Jobal blinked twice at Ahsoka before answering. "Out," she said.

"Will she be back soon?"

"I think so."

There was an awkward silence as the three women looked at one another. Padmé cleared her throat before beginning the introductions. "Ahsoka, this is my mother, Jobal Naberrie."

Jobal offered a tepid smile. "Hello."

"Mom, this is my new apprentice, Ahsoka Tano."

Ahsoka took umbrage with this. "I'm not your apprentice!"

"I say you are," Padmé said darkly.

"So I have no say in this?"

"I had no say when my master chose me."

Ahsoka seethed at her. The expression on her face was fiery, yet there was an element of betrayal in her eyes. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that the senator whom she had thought as her friend had been a secret Sith all this time.

If this was her reaction, who knew how many magnitudes worse it would be if Anakin found out the truth.

"Perhaps I should give you some space," her mother suggested.

"You'll stay for dinner, won't you? Sola too?"

"Of course," Jobal assured her.

Padmé smiled. "Alright then. Thank you."

She departed for the kitchen and Padmé watched her go. Her mother and sister were technically hired into her service as handmaidens. It was the only way for them to spend time together without revealing their relation. Jobal was her personal seamstress – a role which she performed with exceptional talent – and Sola was her physician. It had been difficult to convince Sola to abandon her practice in Theed and leave her family for an extended period of time, but she had made the commitment for her sake. Padmé was forever grateful for that.

"You're a liar!"

Ahsoka was pointing an accusative finger at her. Padmé merely sighed in response.

"Take a seat."

"No."

"Well I hope you don't mind if I do."

Padmé took a few weary steps to the couch and sat down. She placed a hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. About three months pregnant by now, Padmé was beginning to show. She wore loose fitting clothes in public, but it would only be a matter of time before the press learned the truth. That would be a headache to deal with for sure.

"How long have you kept this a secret?"

Ahsoka was giving her a sour look. She paced back and forth behind the opposite couch, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"My whole life."

"Does Anakin know?"

Padmé arched a brow. "Why should he?"

"I know about you two."

"Really? How?"

"He wasn't exactly subtle."

Padmé smiled weakly. "I suppose not."

"So he doesn't know?"

She sobered at this question. "No," she said, voice heavy.

Ahsoka's footsteps grew heavier until she was practically stomping. "I thought you were my friend."

"Am I not still?"

"No! You're a liar!"

"Everyone lies, Ahsoka. May that be your first lesson as my apprentice."

"I'm not your apprentice!"

"Would you rather I return you to the streets? Is that what you'd prefer?"

Ahsoka blew a gust of air from her lips. "The Council has to know about this. They'll stop you!"

Padmé's expression hardened and she stood up from the couch. She took a step forward and Ahsoka gulped with fear. "I will put this in plain terms. The Jedi and the Republic are going to fall. It is inevitable."

"You lie!"

"My master has been planning for this moment for decades, and his masters had been planning for centuries before him. The Jedi are not prepared. You know this to be true."

Ahsoka looked horrified. "You're a monster!"

Padmé snapped. Unleashing a wave of energy to her impertinent apprentice, she sent her flying into the windows. She then swiped her hand and pushed the couch out of the way before marching toward Ahsoka's prone figure. She pinned her underneath her pointed boot and leaned down.

"I am your only hope," she growled. "If you do not join me, you will be killed and your master will suffer a fate worse than death."

Ahsoka was frozen with fear. Her lower lip trembled as she stared at Padmé's furious eyes. Once again, Padmé felt the twinge of guilt, but she quickly suppressed the impulse.

"Soon you will understand. And if you do not, I will be forced to eliminate you. Do you understand?"

Ahsoka could only nod in response.

Δ Δ Δ

Dinner was a strange affair that evening. When Sola returned, she introduced her sister to Ahsoka – or at least she tried. Her prospective apprentice had adopted a new method which Padmé found inordinately frustrating.

"Ahsoka, would you like something to eat?"

Silence. She sat with her arms crossed and scowled at her empty plate. Ahsoka had yet to say a word since Padmé had thrown her against the window.

"You have to eat eventually. Stop being petulant."

Her mother intervened from the opposite end of the table. "Let her be, Celine."

Padmé softened at this. Jobal alone called her by her birth name. She was conflicted about this, not feeling as if she deserved it, but she would never contemplate asking her mother not to stop.

"Care to explain this to us?"

Padmé's eyes darted to Sola who was seated on her left. Her sister was far more inquisitive into her machinations than Jobal ever was. Padmé preferred to keep them in the dark as much as possible, but Sola made this difficult at times with her probing questions.

"Ahsoka is going to be my new apprentice," Padmé explained. She saw Ahsoka's grip on her fork tighten, but she made no retort. "I found her on one of the lower levels of Coruscant."

"What was she doing there?" Sola asked, having long since figured that Ahsoka wasn't going to answer a direct question.

"She was kicked out of the Jedi Order," Padmé said, looking at Ahsoka now as she spoke. "They accused her of a crime she didn't commit. And despite that, she maintains her loyalty to that wretched institution. She somehow thinks I'm the bad guy. Isn't that right?"

Ahsoka didn't respond, although her face grew taut at the question. Padmé stared at her intently for a few moments before returning her attention to her dinner.

"I think it's about time to go to the media," she said after a minute of silence.

"So soon?" Jobal asked.

Padmé shrugged. "I'm beginning to show."

"Only barely," Sola pointed out.

"It's best to get ahead of these things."

Padmé could tell she had gained Ahsoka's attention. She looked up, her eyes wide.

"Do you have a question for me?" Padmé asked her dryly. Ahsoka grit her teeth and looked back down. "You know," she said, turning back to her sister, "Ahsoka here used to be Anakin's Padawan."

Sola raised her eyebrows. "Really? So does she…?"

"Does she know? Yes, she does."

The three Naberries all turned to inspect Ahsoka, the young Togruta glowering at her lap and refusing to make eye contact.

"How is Anakin?" her mother asked. "Have you heard from him?"

"Not for a while, I'm afraid. Last I heard, he was dealing with some business on Skako Minor."

"But he will be home in time, won't he?"

Padmé's mood darkened. "I hope so," was all she could say.

Δ Δ Δ

It was late at night when Dooku contacted her. Under normal circumstances she would have been vexed that the man hadn't bothered to check what time it was on Coruscant, but Padmé couldn't sleep that night, so the buzzing of her holoprojector came as a relief.

She didn't sleep much these days. Not since the dreams began.

Padmé wrapped a robe around herself before setting the holoprojector down on the surface of the bed and activating it. Dooku's hologram flickered to life, and she noted with a frown that it was she looking up at him rather than the other way around. This improper arrangement was quickly rectified when the count kneeled.

"My lady."

She smiled at his obedience. Dooku understood subordination; He never let the power at his fingertips go to his head. Perhaps he knew how shallow his grasp over affairs truly was.

"You have done well, Lord Tyranus. The information you provided me was very valuable."

"Did you succeed? Is the Padawan in your possession?"

Padmé hesitated, something about the wording causing her discomfort. "She is with me," she said shortly.

"Will she be cooperative?"

"Only time will tell."

Dooku bowed his head. "She would be wise to accept your guidance as I have done."

"Indeed," was all Padmé chose to say.

Dooku looked up. She noticed for the first time a hint of wariness in his eyes. The count seemed to be apprehensive about something.

"What is it?" she asked bluntly.

"I come bearing news from Lord Sidious."

Padmé raised her chin. "News, you say?"

"The end of the war is near."

"How so?"

"He's ordered me to initiate an assault on Coruscant."

Padmé was sure she had misheard. "On Coruscant? But that would be suicide!"

"I think that's the idea."

Licking her lips, Padmé looked away as she considered this. "When is this supposed to happen?"

"In the next few months or so. I have to assemble our forces first."

Padmé rested her hands over her midsection. What was Palpatine planning? This seemed thoroughly out of character. It was too bold. Too brash. There must be something she didn't know.

"Keep me apprised," she said.

"Yes, my lady."

She severed the connection and pondered this confounding development for a moment longer. There was too much on her mind to give it adequate analysis, however. Swiping the holoprojector off the bed, she returned it to the drawer of her end table. She then let her robe drop to the floor and took a few steps toward the window. Peering out at the skyline, Padmé considered the dappled light of the city streaming in through the shades. Alternating segments of dark and light covered her from head to toe.

Spinning on her heel, Padmé stormed away from the window – as well as from any symbolism it might entail. She barged out of her bedroom and down the hallway toward the living room. There she found Ahsoka asleep on the couch, an embroidered quilt draped over her frame. Padmé was relieved she hadn't been forced to thwart any ill-conceived attempts to escape. Young Ahsoka may be feisty, but she was no fool.

Padmé approached silently. She sat down on the opposite couch and stared at her apprentice for a long while. The two of them had been good friends back when Ahsoka was Anakin's Padawan. The girl had looked up to her, idolized her as so many mistakenly did. While she doubted there was anything she could do to restore the bond they once shared, Padmé did have one trick up her sleeve to ensure Ahsoka would be loyal to her.

She dreaded doing it, but there was little choice in the matter. The pain she was about to cause Ahsoka would be great, but it would only make her stronger. Her master had taught her as much.

Leaning forward, Padmé extended a finger to Ahsoka's forehead. She planted it lightly against her skin. Closing her eyes, Padmé projected her own visions onto Ahsoka's mind.

She would show her what was to become of the Jedi; What was to become of the Republic; And what was to become of Anakin.

It was no exaggeration to call it a fate worse than death.