Naboo Rose

by Girlbender875

AU. Padmé, her adopted brother Obi-Wan, and her sister-in-law Siri walk a tightrope teetering between their roles as Rebels in the Imperial Senate and execution. To keep prying eyes off of their covert operations, Padmé must woo the most emotionless man the Empire has known: Darth Vader. This sends everyone into a world of intrigue, power plays, whirlwind romance, and more.

29. The Chess Master

Goodness, these chapters keep getting longer and longer, lol. And dear me, everyone was flipping out quite a bit from the last chapter, haha. Fret not! Just bear the genres in mind. ;)

PSA: I might or might not have pulled an all-nighter *coughcough* so the editing on this won't be perfect.

---

As the string instruments played dramatically, Tarkin felt his headache intensify.

"She's got to break up with him!" the nurse argued. "She doesn't belong with him!"

"She's his wife," the med tech stressed.

"Yeah, but they don't feel it anymore – besides, these two are meant to be!"

"Have you forgotten that his new girlfriend is also sleeping with the commander?"

"It's the captain, actually," Tarkin corrected her. The nurse and tech threw him confused glances and he shrugged. It was hard to not know the plot when they had the receiver on maximum volume and he'd been listening to the past three episodes. He was fairly certain he could explain the entire plot by now: it was a 'historical drama' (with heavy emphasis on the drama and very little emphasis on the historical) that took place during the Clone Wars showcasing a romance between a promiscuous Jedi Padawan and three or four different men.

"Right." The tech acknowledged awkwardly before looking back at the nurse. "See? She slept with the captain; there's no way she and that admiral can hook up."

"They already did hook up!" the nurse replied hotly.

Tarkin eyed a scalpel longingly.

"Besides, isn't she like, what, fifteen years old? And the admiral's in his fifties?"

The syringe was looking pretty good too. All he had to do was find some poison to fill it.

"So? She's a commander, and a Jedi, so it's not like that matters!"

"When does Order 66 happen?" Tarkin finally asked, at his wit's end. "I'd like to watch that episode."

Any response from the medical practitioners was interrupted by a small groan. Everyone's attention immediately turned to Vader. He coughed a little, his throat no doubt rough from the endotracheal tube that had been there during the surgery. He shifted in bed and winced before opening his deep blue eyes. They were unfocused initially, but as Tarkin approached him they picked up on the movement and slowly rolled over to him.

"Milord?" Tarkin questioned, checking to see if the boy was even aware of what had happened.

The nurse and tech also appeared at his bedside. The tech started to get vitals as the nurse checked Vader's IV drip.

Vader continued to stare at Tarkin, his brow furrowing a little in confusion. He coughed again and then moaned a little, obviously in pain.

"Aren't you people giving him painkillers?" Tarkin looked at the nurse reproachfully.

"He's got the maximum dose in his system right now," she replied. "It's the coughing that's doing it, governor; any motion in his abdomen is going to hurt, no matter what."

As the tech and nurse continued to care for the young Sith, Tarkin once more looked at the information the physician had given him. Vader would be discharged either tomorrow night or the morning after, depending on how his recovery went. He would be allowed to eat solids once he was able to swallow and was cognizant enough to know what was happening. He was to remain in bed for the duration of his stay in the med bay, though, and he would need some therapy after he was released. Tarkin snorted at the last note; as if Palpatine would let Vader have simple physical therapy; the boy's therapy would be to get his asteroid out of bed and get back to work.

"G-governor…?"

Tarkin immediately returned his attention to Vader. The boy still looked confused. Sighing, Tarkin plopped the data pad on the bed and briefly brushed his fingers against the boy's arm as an indicator of his presence. "Yes, it's me. Do you know where you are right now?"

Vader swallowed and slowly moved his head to glance around. He then closed his eyes. The tech and nurse both immediately looked at the monitor, and when Tarkin did as well he noted to his alarm that Vader's heart rate dropped. The tech noticed his concern and smiled reassuringly.

"He's using the Force," she replied. "My mother was a medic during the Clone Wars and she said Jedi's vitals were always funny when they accessed the Force."

"I'm in… in the med bay…" Vader answered Tarkin sluggishly. "How did…?"

"The emperor." Tarkin explained.

Vader's eyes popped open immediately. Tarkin knew what was coming next and he slammed his hand into Vader's uninjured shoulder to prevent him from bolting out of bed. "Don't even think about going anywhere, milord. You're under strict orders to remain in bed."

"My report—"

"Can wait another day," Tarkin interrupted.

"He's stable right now, sir," the nurse reported. "We'll leave you two alone."

The nurse and the tech both bowed and left the room, though the large door remained open and Tarkin could still unfortunately see and hear everything quite clearly through the glass windows and open area between the room and the HoloNet receiver. Vader closed his eyes and rubbed his face with one hand, taking a deep breath.

"How are you feeling?" Tarkin asked him.

Vader shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut.

Tarkin sat once more in the chair beside the boy's bed, not entirely sure what to do or say. Looking the boy over, he glanced at the regimen of medicine Vader was currently taking through his IV. Painkiller, nutrients, ions, and an antibiotic. Tarkin recognized the name of the last medication; he'd been unfortunate enough to have it administered to himself during the Clone War after a particularly bad campaign. He distinctly recalled that it left him feeling ravenous with hunger. He looked at Vader. "When was the last time you ate, milord?"

Vader paused to consider his answer. When he took too long to reply, Tarkin took that as an answer in itself; he probably hadn't eaten since before battling the Jedi. Then again he was on nutrients from the IV… he had everything he needed.

"Wait, when did she sleep with that guy? Rewind the episode!"

Well, that decided it. He was going to the kitchens. "I'll be back."

"Governor," Vader called after him as he walked towards the doorway. "Where's Master?"

Master. Why was he calling him master when there were so many people around? What had him worried? Did he think he was in trouble? Well he was blasted right in thinking that – the idiot should have never let himself get to this point; he should have gone straight to surgery after the battle instead of incessantly worrying over his stupid report to the kriffing emperor and—

Oh right. He'd asked him a question.

"He's at the opera, milord. Now rest."

As Tarkin happily fled the med bay, leaving the wailing of the nurse far behind him, he realized he would now be forced to contact Palpatine. Not only was Vader out of surgery, but he was also awake and asking for his master. Sighing, Tarkin pulled out his comlink, and he finally made the call as he stood in the turbolift waiting to reach his destination. Palpatine received the news coldly and didn't say much else. Tarkin hadn't expected anything different; the emperor had no reason to say anything else, certainly to the grand moff.

Once he reached the kitchens Tarkin grabbed the necessary accoutrements and returned to the med bay, dreading hearing the inevitable—

"OH. MY. GOSH. Is that her Master?! Talk about a hottie! Too bad he's a Jedi—what a waste of good genes!"

Sighing heavily, Tarkin trudged back into Vader's room. The boy was sitting stiffly, his uninjured leg twitching restlessly, but he focused on the grand moff as he entered. His eyes then immediately fell upon what Tarkin was holding.

"They didn't say anything about you not being able to eat ice cream, I believe," Tarkin remarked as he approached the young Sith. "Just be sure to eat it slowly."

"Sir?"

Tarkin turned to see the med tech watching him uncertainly. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid he's going to have to wait on dessert until we see him eat something more substantial."

"Such as?"

"Well, the Emdee droid is bringing some food for him now, governor," she explained and hastily motioned to the droid once it arrived. "If he can hold that down then he can eat dessert."

"I can eat dessert now," Vader slurred from his bed, his fingers twitching.

The tech sighed and shrugged. "He can eat dessert now."

Tarkin blinked. What? Why did she—he immediately snapped his gaze back to Vader. Cheeky youngling. When he raised his eyebrow in a query, Vader looked at him nonchalantly. "The ice cream will melt before I finish the rest, and then it'll be useless."

"Astonishing logic," Tarkin commented dryly as he passed the bowl to the boy. When Vader received the bowl and spoon, Tarkin firmly reminded him, "Eat slowly."

The Sith nodded and took a small hesitant bite. "When will Master be back?"

Tarkin glanced at the boy's vitals. His heart rate was far higher than it had been earlier. He was still worrying over Palpatine. "He ought to be back relatively soon. You can give your report to him when he arrives, if he so pleases. In the meantime don't think about it."

He didn't know why he was saying that; telling Vader to not obsess over his missions was like telling the sun to stop shining. He wouldn't shut up about the report until Palpatine said his mission was complete. At least the boy seemed more stable… for the most part. He still looked restless and nervous, though whether that was due to his wounds, his punishment for being injured, or something else entirely was beyond him.

The Emdee droid abruptly interrupted Tarkin's thoughts when it shoved food onto Vader's lap and snatched his chocolate ice cream. "The doctor commands that you eat a substantial dinner before consuming dessert."

Vader blinked, staring at the bowl. Then he looked at the Emdee droid. Then Tarkin. Then the bowl again. Something sizzled in the background, and Tarkin whirled around to see a circuit board had shorted out. The Emdee droid placed the ice cream on the nightstand and departed.

Tarkin immediately stood and grabbed the bowl, holding it out to the Sith. Vader immediately took it and once again munched on the contents as the grand moff hesitantly looked at the circuit board again. Writing it off as an odd coincidence, he returned his attention to the Sith.

"What happened with the Jedi, milord?" he asked as Vader ate.

"They're dead."

"Yes, I know that," Tarkin rolled his eyes. "I meant how did you get injured?"

Vader paused. His gaze clouded, and his hand slowly lowered, ice cream forgotten. He didn't look pleased about something, but he also didn't look like he wanted to admit anything. After almost a minute of this, Tarkin let the matter drop. "It's a moot point. Never mind."

Vader immediately returned his attention to his ice cream. Tarkin thought briefly about how this would affect his plans, and he thought about his spy as well. He was eager to meet with her, and now that the boy was awake he could do so. He should probably wait until the emperor returned, though. That shouldn't be too long.

Tarkin once again scrolled through Vader's medical file out of boredom. He glanced at the name of the physician who had overseen everything and was suddenly startled to see that the man was a pediatric surgeon. Why was he treating Vader? He immediately looked at the Sith Lord and then back at the file, sifting through all the information until he settled on Vader's patient record. Blast it, the boy was nineteen? He really had lost track of the years.

"What? How could they just kill him off like that?!"

Tarkin sighed. Where was that scalpel again?

---

Éothen walked in a daze as he disembarked at the private platform in Tlenden's apartment. Erwyna was waiting for him and she hastily grabbed his uninjured arm and dragged him inside. "Come on; Tlenden will be back soon. I told him you were taking a walk and got lost."

"Right," he muttered, trying to absorb everything that had happened. She… how… but… when… what…

"Tlenden's been gone for a couple of hours, but once we get you all situated I'll call him and say the coast is clear. Unless you brought some nice wine, of course, and then we can wait a little longer before calling."

He thought… how was it that… but she…? Éothen planted his feet firmly in place and refuse to move until his head stopped spinning.

Okay. What the hell just happened?

The emperor had arrived, and Éothen had suddenly learned that it took a hell of a lot more self restraint to prevent himself from strangling the man than he thought possible. Amidala—Padmé—had done it with ease. Sure, she looked a little upset, but her execution was practically flawless. When the slime ball had mentioned she'd been with Darth Vader, Éothen had immediately thought his original suspicions about her were correct: she was nothing more than a manipulative politician, and he was her next victim. But after she'd explained herself it had made sense and by the guardians it had finally unlocked that door that allowed him to just recognize that she was actually a pretty amazing woman. But… but…

How the hell had that escalated so quickly?

"Éothen?"

He jumped, glancing at Erwyna. Her blue eyes held concern and confusion. "What's wrong?"

"I… it's…" Éothen stammered uncertainly. How in the blazes was he going to explain this? Padmé Amidala had proposed marriage to him and he'd accepted it – he hadn't known what else to say or do, and what she said rang true to him, and she had proven her worth for the most part, and—

Káern was going to blow a gasket. Erwyna was going to blow a gasket. His mom… he wasn't so sure. But he figured his dad wouldn't mind.

"Is it your arm?" she asked.

Éothen shook his head. Honestly, he'd forgotten about his arm entirely since the fiasco at the opera house. "No, it's… I…" He took a deep breath. Time to face the consequences. "I'm engaged."

Erwyna rolled her eyes. "Very funny, Éothen. What's actually wrong?"

"That's it."

"To who?" she looked at him disbelievingly.

"Do I really need to explain?" he looked at her pointedly.

Erwyna gaped at him. "Amidala? But you barely know her!"

Éothen knew that. He knew there were a lot of issues with this. At the same time it was… kind of exciting. And terrifying. And confusing. He had thought through it with the small amount of time Amidala had given him, and what she'd said made sense, and what he'd thought about the matter made sense, and… blast it all, this was still happening really fast. Still, he was a man of honor and if he had said yes to Amidala he would keep his word to her, so long as his parents didn't object. He'd made his decision and wouldn't show any uncertainty to anyone else, even Erwyna. Giving his best cocky smile, he echoed his earlier statement about her. "She's pretty."

Erwyna gawked at him. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally said, "You've got to be kidding me, Éothen—you can't just joke about stuff like this! This is the future of your clan we're talking about—the future of Salkende!"

She didn't think he knew that? He'd been thinking about this ever since he'd said yes to Amidala—to Padmé. He'd yet to find a single woman he'd been interested in having as his wife up to this point mainly because every possibility he'd been given by Káern was some person he'd never met, and the only reason she was suggested was because it would lead to some kind of favorable political outcome, some sort of unrelated outcome that didn't even do much for his clan at the present moment.

Káern was a politician; he didn't see what Éothen saw in people. When Káern mentioned a woman he saw an opportunity to give Ønske (and therefore his own clan, Bidra) allies via Éothen's marriage… but Éothen only saw a useless woman who had done nothing for him or his own and whose clan was equally worthless to him. Most of the families on Salkende were small and had just watched the war to see who would win, and now that Ønske was on top these previously useless clans were suddenly declaring their loyalty; it made Éothen burn with anger just thinking about it. Worthless idiots, all of them. If they were that concerned with protecting their own then Éothen was perfectly in his rights to feel the same and keep the future of his clan far from anyone who obviously was just waiting to seize an opportunity and cared only for themselves. One's family meant everything, but clans often combined and sided together for common causes – all his life Éothen had been told that the people he'd been fighting had been tyrants to all the people of Salkende and they deserved to be defeated. Anyone who didn't believe that had their heads so far up their asteroids they couldn't help not seeing what was happening around them. He had no patience for that. He recalled the old stories and lore about how all the great clans of Salkende were honorable, but now it only seemed like a small handful were, and most of them were wiped out for their trouble. Honestly, the more he thought about it the better it seemed to marry a foreigner instead of any of the worthless idiots back home. There were a select number of clans who had potential, but they were already allied with Ønske; Káern, therefore, wouldn't even consider them. So if Tlenden wanted to play that game and create a new union through Éothen's marriage, then Éothen would happily oblige—Amidala was a foreigner and would bring quite the new union.

She'd bring the Rebel Alliance.

"I am thinking about all that," he eventually replied, not growing too angry with Erwyna; she had similar views to Éothen, so once he explained things to her it would make sense. Sort of. He still had a lot of sorting out to do in his own mind, after all. Despite how logical the decision seemed, it still made his head spin. How in the blazes had that happened so fast?

"Please do enlighten me as to how this isn't a completely insane idea," Erwyna folded her arms, glaring at him.

"She's got an army."

"We're winning the war."

"Yes, but with the Alliance what more could we win?" Éothen offered, not really caring too much for any more conquest but also not wanting Salkende to ever grow weak. "We'd be the strongest military in the galaxy."

Erwyna laughed. "Yeah, sure, because we all know the Alliance is doing magnificently against the Empire."

"The Alliance is taking a beating just like we did, Erwyna," Éothen argued, suddenly growing a little defensive as he thought of his own clan's plight. "Ønske used to have ten thousand members. Now it's just me and my parents, yet we're still the victors in our war."

Erwyna immediately changed the subject, noting his temper. "Fine, so we're not ruling them out of winning the war, but there's not even any war at this point – there never has been. The Rebels always did these little operations and then scurried for cover."

"They never had the chance to grow," Éothen replied halfheartedly; he was starting to get out of his element at this point. He didn't know much about galactic affairs; his entire life had revolved around Salkende's war up to this point. Honestly, Erwyna was the same, so he was surprised she was arguing as much as she was.

"Most of the clans on Salkende could offer Ønske more support than the Rebels at this point," Erwyna noted. "Think about it: one of their leaders is dead. Besides, they already owe us – we busted one of their other leaders out of an Imperial prison! You don't need to marry Amidala to get their help; you can just demand it."

Éothen looked at his friend disapprovingly. "You know we did that because it was the honorable thing to do. Such actions don't create debts; the Rebels owe us nothing."

Erwyna flushed and looked away, frustrated. Éothen wasn't sure what in particular was bothering her so much; yes, obviously this decision was extremely quick and not entirely thought out, but Éothen had made it quite clear to her that he didn't desire going through the planning stages of this union – he'd much rather skip to the marrying part. Considering what little effort he'd put into thinking this through, it made surprisingly a lot of sense for Salkende and for his own tastes. Besides, if there were holes in his logic (which there no doubt were, he thought ruefully), his parents would pick up on it and he would have held his word… because one of the main reasons he said yes was because Amidala was just one of those passionate, demanding speakers you didn't say no to.

Padmé. Right. Padmé. Holy Mother this was weird. And exciting. And terrifying. And—wait, hadn't he already thought all of this? His head really was spinning.

"There's going to be a nuclear fallout when Tlenden gets back," Erwyna sighed. "You do realize that, right?"

"The decision's been made." Éothen said firmly. He had a million thoughts going through his mind all at once, but he wouldn't let Tlenden dictate his engagement anymore. "Káern will just have to deal with it."

And he would have to deal with it. They all would. Even Éothen himself.

How in the blazes had this all happened so quickly?!

---

"I'm not sure this could get much worse," Siri muttered as she paced the living room.

Obi-Wan watched her but said nothing, mulling over the situation. The Rebels' last hope had been the Jedi fleet, and now they were gone, but the Alliance wasn't destroyed yet. What was left of their fleet was still out there, and now that Qui-Gon was here the Naberrie family could resume their spying so long as Darth Vader was far away, which seemed to be the case given his most recent activities. Obi-Wan and Siri needed to get in contact with Al; finding that Intelligence agent was a top priority. If they could get an inside man in Intelligence they would have a far better chance of survival, as would the Alliance. Qui-Gon would protect Padmé, who would be able to make contact with other senators, assuming any of them were trustworthy, and Obi-Wan and Siri could continue to meet with Al. As soon as he got his hands on Kelathik serum the baby would be safe. As insane as the situation was, there was still hope.

Then again, that was all taking into account that things went according to plan. Still, Obi-Wan was surprisingly calm about all of this; somehow that Jedi's inner peace spilled over into him… though obviously it hadn't reached Siri.

Qui-Gon. It was so strange thinking about the Jedi Master. He looked at Obi-Wan and Siri with such foreign familiarity, and it always brought the strangest sensations to Obi-Wan as if the man was from some life Obi-Wan had lived without recalling any of it.

"Blast, I wish we could somehow get rid of Vader," Siri snapped as she twirled around to walk the length of the couch again. "He's caused nothing but hell since he kriffing showed up in the galaxy. I know that's not our priority but now that he's directly involved with us… isn't there some way Qui-Gon can take him out?"

"That's not really his mission," Obi-Wan noted, eying his wife carefully.

"His mission is to protect Padmé," Siri rebutted. "Seeing as Vader is the biggest threat to her safety, getting rid of him wouldn't be too far from his objective."

"And how exactly would we explain that?" Obi-Wan challenged her calmly. "Qui-Gon would have to go into hiding, therefore eliminating him as her protector."

"But her biggest threat would be gone." Siri faced him fully.

"There are plenty of other things he could be doing," Obi-Wan sighed. "There are plenty of other things we should all be doing."

Siri raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. "So we're finally getting back to our usual business?"

"Assuming there's any usual business to do," Obi-Wan shrugged. "Seeing as we're the only spies left on this world I don't think we can push it off any longer, but the senate isn't really telling us much about the military at the moment… and I don't see any potential allies."

Siri sighed heavily, leaning against the wall. "Apart from Al's job I don't know what we're even doing here anymore. There's nothing for the Rebels here unless somebody can infiltrate Intelligence or the military."

That point had been bothering Obi-Wan for some time now. What were they doing besides worrying over issues that could resolve themselves if they just left? It was a good thing they were around to save Organa (though he still wasn't happy that Padmé had put herself in such a dangerous situation), but unless they made contact with the Alliance they had no leads and no information. They were sitting around waiting to get caught. Besides, getting Padmé off-world would ensure she didn't let her emotions get the best of her with Darth Vader, either.

Obi-Wan and Siri both turned as they sensed Padmé enter the apartment. Obi-Wan stood, ready to greet her and relay the grim news about the fleet, but when she entered the living room he immediately grew concerned. She looked hollow somehow, like the opera had drained her as much as her time at Varykino. Her eyes were dull, her mouth a thin line, and her brow creased in worry. She didn't even seem to notice that Obi-Wan and Siri were standing in front of her until Siri said, "What's wrong?"

Padmé jumped, slightly startled, and her expression immediately grew relaxed. She smiled. Obi-Wan and Siri didn't have to exchange glances to know she was putting up a façade for them; they'd seen it enough times and they could sense right through the lie. "It's nothing… just… how did things go with you two? You met the Jedi, right?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered, waving a dismissive hand before he remembered the news he bore. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell her now, though; she looked like she'd had enough bad news for one night. But what had happened? The opera was supposed to be relaxing. "Padmé, what is it? Did Éothen do something?"

"The Jedi fleet is gone." She said morosely, staring blankly at the ground.

No wonder she looked awful. Obi-Wan immediately tried to reassure her. "We know, Padmé, but it's going to be all right. Now that the Jedi is here he can make contact with the Rebels, and—"

Obi-Wan's words were interrupted when Padmé abruptly burst into tears. She tried to hide it, covering her mouth and nose with one hand and squeezing her eyes shut, but her sobs wracked her entire body and she nearly collapsed onto the floor. Siri immediately ran to her and held her, trying to whisper comforting words. Obi-Wan stood awkwardly, watching the exchange and not knowing what to do. Why was she still crying if he'd just said it was fine? Was something else bothering her, or was it just too much all at once? What in the blazes was he supposed to do?

Siri continued to comfort Padmé before turning her head to give Obi-Wan a glare. She jerked her head as if to say get your asteroid over here, idiot. Obi-Wan sighed and obeyed, eventually holding Padmé. Hugs were fine. He could handle hugs, and he knew Padmé like them. Then Siri continued to glare at him. Say something.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened pleadingly. Siri, you know I can't speak reassurances to save my life.

"As Obi-Wan was saying," Siri said, rolling her eyes at her husband. "Everything's going to be fine. The Jedi will keep you safe, Al will find the agent, and the Jedi will meet up with Al to get in contact with the Rebels. We'll have all his allies helping us."

Somehow this only made matters worse. Padmé was inconsolable. Obi-Wan looked frantically at Siri. Do something! Siri didn't say anything else, though; she seemed to think it was best to just let Padmé cry it out. Obi-Wan didn't like that solution; with that train of thought he couldn't do anything to help. Then again, he wasn't really doing much now, either. Blast it, why couldn't he handle these situations? He thought he'd improved vastly since he was a teenager, but somehow he still didn't know what to do whenever someone started crying. He always just felt so detached from whatever was upsetting them, so there was no way he could say anything that would be helpful at all. His words, which he always staked so much on, suddenly meant nothing to someone who was blubbering all over the place.

Nevertheless, after almost five minutes of nothing but tears, Obi-Wan finally pleaded in as even a tone as he could manage, "Padmé, please calm down."

To her credit, she did try to do so. Eventually the sobs mellowed into hiccups and the tears stopped. Padmé slowly pulled away from her family, but whenever she tried to speak another hiccup escaped and she nearly fell apart all over again. Obi-Wan only watched her helplessly, hating himself for not being able to do anything, while Siri wiped the tears away from her face. Eventually, Padmé muttered something, making the couple lean in. "What?"

"I'm engaged." She repeated softly, her eyes still closed.

Obi-Wan blinked. Then he blinked again. "You're… what?"

Padmé sighed heavily and shook her head, repeating herself a third time. Her voice trembled with the effort.

Obi-Wan blinked again. What did she just say? He went over the words once more, but they didn't register. It was almost as if she were speaking a foreign language.

And then it clicked.

"What?" he exclaimed at the same time as his wife.

"How did—when did—" Siri stammered, still in shock.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had immediately made the connection as soon as the words finally translated in his mind. "Éothen proposed marriage? And you accepted?"

"I proposed," Padmé corrected him, opening her eyes and staring at the floor, unable to look at him.

"Are you insane?" Siri gaped at her.

Padmé was suddenly filled with energy, and she whirled on her sister-in-law. "What would you have me do, Siri? We're stuck with no allies, no help, no hope, and the one person who could lend us aid won't because he has to ensure the survival of his clan! Come on, the answer is obvious, you can't expect me to not do this, and don't you dare say I'm crazy because somebody has to step up and get this done since nothing is in our favor right now!"

"Didn't we just say that we've got a Jedi on our side?" Siri snapped back.

Obi-Wan winced; this wasn't going to end well if they clawed each other to death. Before Siri could continue her argument, Obi-Wan put a hand on her shoulder to calm her, but she brusquely shoved him off and was about to go at it again. Instead, he interrupted her.

"Padmé," he said loudly to get both their attention, but as soon as he had it he wasn't sure what to say. Honestly he wanted to chew her out as much as Siri did—how could she do something this reckless?! It was as if every time a situation arose, Padmé just made it worse: Darth Vader was watching them, so she had to make him be attracted to her; Organa was captured, so she had to risk her life to bust him out instead of waiting for the Rebels; Salkende refused to help the Alliance, so she had to get engaged! Obi-Wan was seeing a very destructive pattern here. "Why couldn't you have at least waited to come home before jumping to conclusions?"

"I wouldn't have seen Éothen again," she argued.

"You couldn't have found Tlenden tomorrow?" Obi-Wan asked, frustrated.

"What purpose would it serve to delay the inevitable by one day?" Padmé nearly yelled, brushing passed the couple. "As soon as I saw that report about the fleet I knew it was over."

"But Qui-Gon—"

"Who's Qui-Gon?"

"The Jedi—"

Padmé immediately shook her head. "You'll forgive me if I find it hard to believe that the Jedi will instantly fix our problems. That's what the fleet was supposed to do. We can't just rely on them!"

Siri only grew angrier, but Obi-Wan was starting to grow desperate. "Padmé, please, listen to yourself. You're upset, and it's understandable, but this is just going too far."

"So what isn't going too far?" She questioned him. "Sitting around and waiting for everybody else to solve our problems while we just waste our time here? What's the point in helping the Alliance and putting our lives at risk if we're just going to be watching everything happen around us and not doing anything? We came to Imperial Center to make a difference, to help destroy the Empire, and we wanted to do it with the least amount of blood spilled—just how many more will die if Salkende doesn't help? How many more Rebels, how many more innocents, how many more Jedi?"

Everyone was silent for a moment as they tried to formulate an argument. She made some good points, but there still had to be a better way—Padmé never waited until there was a better solution – she just charged into a situation. Before Obi-Wan could say anything, though, Padmé continued, looking drained.

"We're just individuals in a bigger war," she sighed. "I can't be selfish and let my own wants and desires get in the way of what's right. If this is what will help the Alliance best, then… then I have to do it."

"Padmé, don't be so dramatic," Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm not saying you shouldn't do everything you can for the Alliance, but this may not be our only option."

"It's our only option for getting Salkende on our side!" she rebutted fiercely.

"Then maybe we don't need Salkende!" Siri pointed out.

"Do you have an alternative?" Padmé turned to her challengingly. When her words hung in the air without response, she shook her head tiredly. "Then it's settled. Just… let it go."

With that said, she dragged her feet to her room. Obi-Wan and Siri were silent for a long time, processing everything that had just happened. Any of that calmness Qui-Gon had imparted on Obi-Wan was long gone. This was just terrific. Obi-Wan didn't even know why he'd bothered to hope that things would sort themselves out. He should have known Padmé would do something this rash, he should have known there would be no easy solution to any of their problems. What else would go wrong? Glancing worriedly at his wife he walked over to her and held her wordlessly. Siri was tense from anger, but she seemed to catch on to what was bothering her husband and she hugged him back. The two said nothing; they were both too drained and had too much going on in their minds to articulate anything, but they understood each other's concerns well enough.

What were they going to do? How would they fix this? Could they fix this?

"She's going to get herself killed," Siri eventually muttered.

Obi-Wan shuddered and held his wife more tightly. "We'll protect her, Siri. Even if it's from herself."

"How can we protect her from herself?" Siri asked softly. "Follow her everywhere and filter everything she says?"

"We can start by working with what we have," he replied, pulling away as his addled mind finally started to organize itself. His worry clenched his chest tightly, but he could still sort this out. With Padmé an emotional wreck and with Siri a fusion reactor ready to explode, he had to make the rational plans. "We're still not sure what the Empire has on us, especially since they've seemed to ease off on Padmé specifically. Still, as soon as this engagement goes public she'll no doubt be back on their radar."

"Qui-Gon will protect her."

Obi-Wan mulled it over. "I don't know what Jedi are and aren't capable of, but even Qui-Gon can't be there for her all the time, and we can't solely rely on him. We'll have to make our own plans."

---

The Dark Side swirled with anticipation. His calm demeanor was unfettered, but beneath the surface he was excitedly awaiting the reaction he would get from his apprentice. The opera had ended, and while Palpatine was tempted to seek out Amidala once more, his focus had shifted elsewhere. It was apparent now that his original plan for the foolish girl had worked, and all he had to do was relay the news to Vader and watch the pieces fall into place. It wasn't the perfect execution that he'd wanted, but Amidala was giving him little time or choice considering her actions. The brat certainly was active in her duties, there was no denying that.

The medical bay came into view as Palpatine considered the matter further. He'd hoped he'd thwarted Amidala's plans on associating with Salkende's heir, but he was certain she'd find some other way even if the Togruta refused her advances. It was the main reason he'd assigned her to be the one to penetrate Vader's defenses, after all.

Of course the other matter was Wilhuff Tarkin. The man had always been dangerous but he'd never been as big a threat as he was turning out to be now. The grand moff was dependable and far more intelligent than Palpatine's other conniving officials, and therefore far more threatening. Palpatine had always wanted to keep a close eye on him. He knew assigning Vader to Tarkin as a youngling was a risk, but it was a calculated one; the grand moff would view it more as an insult than an opportunity until it was too late. That had turned out to be the case, but it was apparent Tarkin had noticed the distinct change in Vader as much as Palpatine had and he was trying to take advantage of it. As soon as the grand moff had reported Vader was awake Palpatine concerned himself with getting back to his apprentice. He wasn't yet sure what the man was up to, but it was quite obvious that he was planning something, and his means to get to the boy was no doubt through his 'political training.' Palpatine would still allow for it, though; Vader did indeed need training, and if he succeeded in his current mission, his loyalty to Palpatine would be assured.

Once he entered the medical bay Palpatine immediately sensed out his apprentice. Judging by the turbulent emotions it was obvious the boy was awake. Palpatine ignored the health care officials who immediately genuflected upon his arrival and made his way to his apprentice's room. Vader sensed him immediately and Palpatine saw Tarkin nearly fighting with the boy to keep him in bed. Palpatine waved a hand to Vader and he immediately stiffened; the last thing he needed was for the idiot to get himself even more injured.

The physician immediately appeared and was making his report, and Palpatine listened dully. His main focus was on the boy himself; he would get the information from Vader. The only useful tidbit the doctor could supply was when Vader would be released. The boy's pain in the Force was still evident, and Palpatine let himself drink it in a little to soothe his irritation.

Eventually the physician left, and Palpatine knew what he needed; Vader would be released sometime tomorrow night or the morning after. That was pushing it a little, but it would suffice unless circumstances changed. Palpatine barely glanced at Tarkin and waved his hand dismissively; the grand moff immediately stood, bowed, and departed, closing the door behind him.

Now it was time to do the real evaluation.

He motioned lazily with his hand and the windows became opaque. Then he stood expectantly. "Rise."

Vader moved carefully, gathering the Force around as best as he could. Palpatine felt the boy claw at the Force with ferocious determination. The Sith Master sealed his mind off to the repercussions as he started to feel the Force nearly smash against him; the apprentice's power really was magnificent to behold. The best part about it, of course, was that it was all Palpatine's – everything Vader did was for him.

His apprentice pulled the cover off and stood, his complexion paling slightly as he did so. He stood straight and tall, not showing any outward sign of weakness apart from the automatic signs and symptoms that he couldn't control. Palpatine smiled at the boy's resilience, but as he slowly lowered his shields to probe the boy's mental state he was slammed by an onslaught of pain. Normally this would be amusing, satisfying, even pleasurable, but now it was just a distraction… and the determination in Vader's eyes to overcome it was good enough to appease his master. Palpatine indicated that he could sit once more, especially after he saw Vader's vitals skyrocket in response to the pain.

Once the boy was situated in bed, Palpatine approached him. He recalled the images and sensations he'd picked up from Amidala. She obviously believed Vader could be turned to her side, and she had feelings for him as well. Considering Vader was keeping his interaction with her a secret from Palpatine, there was little doubt that she intrigued him at the very least. Was it just curiosity, then? Was Amidala simply an anomaly that required investigation? Or was she more to the boy? It was time to find out.

"While you were wasting time in surgery, I happened upon Senator Amidala," he said. "It appears she's courting a man named Éothen from Salkende."

He waited, but he didn't have to wait long; despite Vader's grogginess from the medicine, he still caught his master's meaning immediately. His face flushed, his vitals increased once more, and the Force grew intensely heavy with anger, betrayal, confusion, and… was that hurt? Palpatine hid a smile; she'd gotten to the boy far more than he'd expected. This was delightful. Vader's sealed box was about ready to collapse – his emotions were spilling out so much Palpatine was surprised the boy wasn't overwhelmed by them. It was probably what had happened in his fight with the Jedi. Despite the harm it had done, though, it was a necessary risk; the Jedi threat was diminished now (though he doubted they were completely wiped out), so there were no immediate external enemies to handle. Now all he had to do was focus his attention on sculpting the boy into the perfect Sith and he would happily send him out against any adversary, internal or external. He'd waited years for this, for the opportunity to see Vader finally willingly use his passions to destroy all who opposed him, to fulfill Palpatine's every command.

"Do you want me to kill him, Master?"

My, my, things are escalating rather quickly. He felt the urge to laugh, but withheld it; Vader didn't need to see he was pleased. That would calm the boy, and that was the last thing he wanted now. Though he wasn't sure it would matter at this point – the war of feelings coming from his apprentice wouldn't likely decrease simply because Palpatine seemed content with Vader's reaction. Still, this was quite the change; Vader often gave suggestions, but never on so little information, and he never assumed he knew what Palpatine desired from a mission; he'd always wait for orders. It was one of his handicaps that the emperor wanted to eliminate; the boy was capable of thinking on his own, but it was always within the mission parameters, though admittedly the parameters were typically loose enough that it was rarely a problem. It was a blessing and a curse all in one.

But now… now he could drink in the desire to kill this Togruta. Vader was willing to push past the pain, to push through everything to tear apart anyone who dared get in his way. It ripped the Sith Master's breath away like the sudden sensation of a new drug, and he finally couldn't hide his smile. Vader seemed completely oblivious, which made it all the more brilliant.

Nevertheless, he needed to reel the boy in; they couldn't act too rashly yet. "Not at the moment. We will handle the matter another way. Rest in the meantime."

He'd let the boy stew on his hatred. It would be enough to fuel him, to make him heal all the faster without even realizing it. Vader immediately nodded in acquiescence, but his emotions still increased the gravity of the room tenfold. It was magnificent.

Suddenly, the Force shuddered. Coldness swept through the area like a blizzard's wind, and Vader shivered, closing his eyes and pulling his knees towards him. Palpatine felt a strange sensation fill him and Vader started to tremble. He squeezed his eyes shut. That boy was trying to calm himself. No, he wouldn't have that.

"We can also spend this time reviewing your foolishness with the Jedi," he immediately said to ensure the boy didn't have time to bottle everything up once more. It was different than normal, though; the Force cried out in pain and sorrow, but for just an instant a strange intense warmth nearly burned Palpatine's being, making him flinch. He couldn't identify it in the split second it appeared, but he knew it had originated from his apprentice. External Force abilities, signatures, presences… none of those could reach into him like that. It had to be through their training bond. What was the boy feeling so intensely that it nearly injured Palpatine? It wasn't anger – it didn't seem anything like that, actually. It had been blinding, all encompassing… it had been foreign but familiar all in one. What was that? He'd had frustratingly little exposure to it to identify it, so he couldn't be certain, and the Force suddenly whirled with dread and loathing, sweeping Palpatine's mind up in its currents. He held himself firmly, stopping the flow with his own immense power; the Force obeyed him, not the other way around. He would find out what that emotion had been; he'd gotten hints at it Vader's entire life, but he'd never sensed it with such passion as now. He had a sinking suspicion he knew what it was now that he'd thought about the matter more carefully, and he was once again reminded of the boy's mother.

Always resilient. Always strong. Always concerned for her son. No matter what came, no matter what happened, no matter the dangers to herself, she always looked out for him. Everything revolved around him.

Once again coldness filled the room, and Vader slammed down his own mental shields so harshly Palpatine could practically hear the crashing sound with his own ears. It left him a little dizzy, and it left Vader looking paler than before. The boy, however, spoke first. "I understand my mistake, Master. I lost control during my fight with the Jedi; I lost focus, and it led to my injury. I will not let it happen again. But I must speak to you about the launching point of their fleet."

It seemed as if everything was back to the status quo, but Vader's emotions were still leaking out. He couldn't focus on his master's gaze for too long, he shifted in bed too much, he was still trembling with rage, hurt, confusion, worry, and so many other things that he probably couldn't even identify. Amidala had done the intended damage.

As tempting as it was to further demonstrate his displeasure over Vader's wounds, Palpatine gave the boy a small reprieve and glossed over the matter. "What do you know about their launching point?"

"They wiped out their navigation information during the attack, but judging from fuel and supply usage, it's likely they originated from somewhere in Wild Space. Their ships were seriously retrofitted – most of them were outdated. It seems likely it took them years to amass the forces they had."

What Vader left off was that the Empire's victory therefore set the Jedi back decades. It wasn't worth seeking them out now; he'd wait to see what they'd put together in the next decade or so. He needed to maintain his entertainment somehow. Besides, the next time the Jedi appeared and he sent Vader after them, the boy would be far more mature and prepared. Then they would eliminate those blind fools.

He loved it when a plan came together.

---

Tarkin was slightly worried that Palpatine would finally vent his frustration out on Vader once they were alone together, but he had other matters to attend to. Namely, he had to meet with his spy (and get the heck away from the HoloNet show that nurse was watching). With the emperor in the palace it was best to meet up with her elsewhere, so he made his way over to the Crystal City restaurant and was immediately given a private booth. The wait wasn't long before his spy finally entered.

She had a petite build with small brown eyes and long black hair. Her visage was radiant but calculated; when she wasn't undercover she was the picture perfect agent. She bowed her head in acknowledgement, and Tarkin motioned towards the seat across from him.

"Is everything all right, sir?" she asked as she sat. "You weren't in your quarters at the appointed time."

"Unforeseen circumstances," Tarkin replied dismissively. "Did you get the Zabrak?"

"No, sir," she answered with only the slightest hesitation. "He had backup in the lower levels. He's injured, though, so that will make him easier to find. I have probe droids searching for him now."

Tarkin felt a twinge of annoyance. This wasn't what he'd been hoping for, but he supposed it wasn't the worst thing that had happened today. He was suddenly struck with how late it was and just how blasted tired he was, but he shoved it aside. "Be sure you get him, agent. Anything else to report?"

Here her eyes brightened; whatever she was about to say, she'd been wanting to tell him since the meeting had started. "Senator Organa had sent Amidala a data chip before he was arrested. I scanned it and I've been decrypting it. I don't have everything, but I can tell you that the senator has a new aide, and he's a Rebel spy. The chip Organa provided has a cover identity for him."

A new spy? What were the Rebels planning? Were they going to get rid of Amidala, or was their operation growing once more? How many other spies did they have? "What of Amidala herself and her family?"

"The representative and his wife have been the only ones in contact with the aide. Senator Amidala has been preoccupied with the Salkenden, Éothen. They went to the opera this evening."

Amidala was making herself quite busy, wasn't she? Tarkin felt a mixture of amusement and disgust thinking about it. The woman had been pulling this stunt on Vader just a few days ago. He was tempted to have his agent kill her, but that would do little to help in the matter. No, killing her for Vader's sake wouldn't do. Besides, she was still useful, and this might be the incentive he needed to get Vader on his side. Still, he had to get Amidala on his side, and he didn't like that he'd not spoken to her since before the final recess. It was time he placed matters in his favor in regards to both Vader and Amidala.

He needed leverage over the senator, and he needed to get rid of the new Rebel threat. He wouldn't attack the aide first; he'd observe. But the handmaiden… Vader had been looking for the handmaiden who would have been doing most of the dirty work. It was obvious now that the representative and his wife were Amidala's main helpers, but it would be far too noticeable for the representative to go missing. The handmaiden, on the other hand… "Bring Siri Naberrie to me alive. Do whatever you must to capture her, but be discreet about it."

The spy nodded. "It will be done, governor. Is there anything else you require?"

"No," Tarkin replied, standing. The spy stood as well. "That will be all for now."

After the two parted ways, he wandered back to the palace, lost in thought. Yes, this would work nicely; once he had the handmaiden in his grasp he could order Amidala to do anything he desired. He'd use her to manipulate Vader, assuming the man was still alive after Palpatine met with him. He didn't see why the emperor would kill Vader after the surgeon patched him up, so it wasn't likely… but it was most certainly odd. Palpatine never tolerated weakness, so whenever Vader had gotten hurt he'd barely done anything to help him – most of the time he'd somehow made the injuries worse just to drive the lesson home. It was often Tarkin who had helped the young Sith heal. In either case, he'd soon have both Amidala and Vader obeying him, and then he would have everything he needed to finally ensure his position as emperor.

Arriving in the medical bay of the palace, Tarkin peeked into Vader's room. Palpatine had left, probably to go to bed; it was midnight, after all. Tarkin stifled a yawn and entered the room. Vader was still wide awake, and he looked anxious about something. Tarkin was tempted to ask what was wrong, but he was far too eager about the newly acquired information to worry about the man's mental state. "Milord, I heard some interesting news pertaining to Senator Amidala."

"She left. She… she betrayed… she…" Vader muttered, staring at his hands on his lap.

The glee he'd felt drained out of him as he stared at the forlorn boy. He walked over to him and sat on the bed. "This Éothen that she's with is a pestilence, milord, but not a permanent problem. All we have to do is eliminate him."

Vader shook his head. "Padmé's smarter than this. She's stronger than this. He didn't force her. She chose. She chose."

"Any good thing has some bad aspects to it," Tarkin tried to reassure him. "Your little project will still work; simply clip off the diseased branches."

"Why would she do this?" he asked, his voice sounding tired and strained. Then he rubbed his face and tensed every muscle in his body. "It's her fault. Everything's wrong and it's her fault. I can't focus, I—I can't… governor, what do I do?"

Tarkin pulled the boy's hands from his face and looked him in the eye. "You make it right, Lord Vader. And we will. We will."

---

It was so early in the morning that sunlight barely pierced the sky. The traffic was as calm as was possible on Imperial Center. The smell of restaurants and exhaust mixed together in the typical morning scent. The hallways were silent except for the occasional security officer patrolling. The office was dead quiet.

Padmé sat on the floor of her office. She was dressed for the day; she'd put on her outfit as if it were her last day of freedom. And in a sense it was; Éothen had said he was leaving tomorrow, and she would have to accompany him. So she wore her favorite senatorial gown: a purple satin dress with blue jewels decorated on the bodice and a long deeper purple sleeved cloak over it. Her hair was pulled back with a golden headpiece. The last time she'd worn this had been the first day she'd met Darth Vader. It seemed fitting somehow to wear it again now that she was essentially his Rebel counterpart.

In her hands was the shoto. It was almost complete; only one more piece was needed to finish it. She had left the piece at home on purpose as if to tell herself that this wasn't her, as if to say her entire life hadn't just been thrown away. Obi-Wan was right; she shouldn't be this dramatic; she'd long since sacrificed her life and happiness when she decided to become senator for the sake of spying on the Empire. Her window of opportunity for happiness had closed after her tenure as queen. The galaxy always had to come first.

But what about Vader? She felt so guilty for doing this; she felt like she'd just tossed his trust and confidence in her out the window. But had she? It wasn't like he knew; he was too busy running around the galaxy destroying everything she cared about. She wanted to find him and smack him, yet at the same time she wanted to just hold him and make everything else disappear. She wished they were back on Naboo together where there was no politics, no plotting, and no war. Out on the lake it had just been them; she ached for that time to come back. She just wanted a resolution to all of this.

Padmé let the shoto roll out of her limp fingers and onto the floor. She had no more tears to shed. She just felt empty. Was this how Vader felt all the time?

She wished Vader was here. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him that she did care for him, that it was him she wanted to spend her time with, not Éothen. At least not like this.

Honesty. She'd promised him honesty. How would she fulfill that? Did it even matter anymore? Was she ever going to see him again? What would happen after she went to Salkende, after the engagement became official? Would Vader remain quiet after that, or would he reveal her status as a spy? She hadn't really thought about it up until this point, and she finally realized she should probably tell Obi-Wan exactly how much Vader knew. She wasn't sure she wanted to talk to him now, though; heaven knew what sarcastic remarks would escape his lips once she brought up Vader. No doubt something along the lines of how she couldn't make up who she wanted to get emotional about; honestly, as if he knew what she was going through at this point.

Padmé shook her head, sighing. She needed to stop brooding. She had to get to work. But she just didn't have the energy to do so; the main reason she was sitting on the floor in the center of her office was because she hadn't even been able to get to her desk. Looking at the shoto only made it worse. She had barely slept at all last night. Maybe it would get better; she recalled her first night as queen had been sleepless as well, but that had been out of nervousness (more like outright terror—once she'd been elected she finally realized how much she'd thrown on her shoulders, but everyone seemed to think she'd done a good job with it), not dread. She didn't know what to do anymore. But she knew she had to help the Alliance, and this seemed the best way to do it, assuming Vader didn't rat her out in retaliation.

Retaliation. Just what would Vader do? Where was he? What was he doing right now? She debated speaking to Tarkin, but that was far too risky at this point; she had to go Salkende and ensure the engagement was official first. Then… well she didn't know what would happen then.

She just didn't know anything anymore.

Her comlink chimed after some indeterminable amount of time had elapsed. Slowly reaching for it, she checked the frequency and realized it was Obi-Wan. "Yes?"

"Padmé, are you alright? Where are you?"

Padmé smiled at his concern. "I went to the senate building a little early. I'm in my office. I had… I had to sort out some issues."

"We're on our way."

Padmé sighed and cut the connection. Well that would be the end of her privacy, then; she didn't know what Obi-Wan and Siri would say or do when they arrived, but she knew they wouldn't leave her alone. It was time to put on her best façade. Shaking her head, she amended that; it was time to do her duty. There was no façade required; the needs of everyone else always came before her own.

But what about Vader?

Eventually her privacy was intruded. After trying to gather her strength for a good half hour, she heard footsteps in the foyer. Rising, she walked to her desk and placed the shoto in a drawer; no sense in letting Obi-Wan and Siri have a heart attack about that.

The door to the office opened to reveal her brother and sister-in-law. The two looked similarly drained, but they immediately smiled and approached her. Padmé suddenly felt guilty for putting them through this. She felt guilty for putting everyone through this. How was it possible that in trying to do what she thought was best she seemed to hurt everyone close to her? Could she even do anything good anymore?

"Morning," Obi-Wan greeted with a surprisingly warm tone. Padmé wanted to throw he arms around him just hearing it; she needed all the support she could get, and she'd thought she wouldn't get any after last night's argument. "We weren't sure if you ate, so we brought breakfast."

Padmé glanced at the food he handed to her, and the tears came back in full force. She quelled them as best she could and ignored the lump in her throat. His kindness spoke volumes. Siri reentered the foyer and closed the door, leaving Padmé alone with her brother.

There was silence for time and then Obi-Wan eventually spoke first. "Padmé… I… I'm sorry I upset you last night. I just… I worry about you. I'm here for you, okay? If you ever want to talk… just know that I'm here for you."

Blast it all, why did he have to say that? His words unlocked the dam, and she immediately started to cry silently. When he looked alarmed, she half laughed half sobbed in reply and then just went to him and held him. He didn't have to say anything to reassure her; all she wanted was to be held, and even Obi-Wan could do that much. His hold was a little stiff initially but he softened and then hugged her tightly, and she was all the more grateful for it. Eventually, after she'd cried for what felt like an eternity, she pulled away. Obi-Wan watched her carefully, not daring to speak, so she said, "It's fine. I'm… I'm fine now. Thank you."

Obi-Wan's eyebrow rose questioningly; he looked like he doubted her honesty.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Really. This… this is what I have to do. I can live with that."

"Padmé—"

"Obi, it's okay." Padmé smiled as best she could. "This is why I joined. This is why I became a senator."

Obi-Wan watched her shrewdly. "And Vader?"

Padmé's breath caught in her throat. How did—why would he bring Vader up like that? She'd been beating herself up about him all morning, but she hadn't assumed her brother would think of him as well unless she mentioned him first. "What about him?"

"What about your feelings for him?" Obi-Wan asked, examining her carefully. What was he looking for?

"It doesn't matter," she shook her head. Of course that was the biggest lie of all, but she couldn't say otherwise to him. She couldn't talk about this now, not when the day was about to start.

"Hm," he acknowledged suspiciously, but then he brushed a stray hair form her face and leaned over, kissing her on the forehead. She was surprised and touched by such an affectionate action, and somehow it made her feel stronger. He smiled when he pulled away. "Siri and I did a bit of planning for today. She'll tell you all about it. In the meantime… try not to get any more stressed than you are, okay?"

Padmé chuckled at that. "Yeah, sure."

As Obi-Wan left, she saw him motion to Siri; apparently the moment alone had been planned. Padmé wondered what else they'd planned for her today; she was surprisingly appreciative of their consideration, but it made her feel guiltier than before – they should be worrying about their own problems, like their baby, and here they were babysitting her.

As soon as Siri entered and the door closed, she got straight to business. "So I found out Éothen's leaving tomorrow. Are you going with him?"

"Yes," Padmé answered, her gut clenching. How had Siri found out when Éothen was leaving? Had she gone to Tlenden? How late had she and Obi-Wan stayed up last night trying to get this all sorted out?

"Okay, so here's the plan. When you leave, Cordé will go as you, and you'll go disguised as a guard. Before you argue about how that isn't necessary, let me tell you that it is – we still don't know what the Empire's up to, and just because they're quiet doesn't mean they're not still watching. Any connection between you and Salkende will probably be a red flag for them; nothing official's leaked out, and it won't do so until we reach Salkende, so you can't make it look clandestine or the real reasoning behind this will be so obvious we might as well broadcast it. Still, we don't like having you out in the open like that. Our new aide will be assisting as well. Today you just play it calm and quiet, okay? The departure is tomorrow morning, so just… enjoy our lovely accommodations on Imperial Center for a little longer. We'll sort out more as we go along."

Padmé did indeed want to argue about placing Cordé in danger, but she knew better than to do so at this point. Siri's glare brooked no argument; Obi-Wan may have mellowed overnight but Siri only seemed all the more agitated with Padmé's decision. She felt even guiltier, if that was possible.

Nodding in acquiescence, Padmé let Siri leave and was alone in her office, staring forlornly at her breakfast. So this was it; this was her last day of freedom. And what would she do with it? She'd sit quietly in the senate building minding her own business, she'd play the perfect little obedient senator, she'd be inconspicuous and go out like a candle snuffed out by a breeze. She'd just vanish into the chaos of the war.

She shook her head. No, she wouldn't just wilt and disappear. She'd fight the Empire with every breath in her body. She'd help the Alliance with her union to Éothen.

She'd abandon Vader.

Groaning, Padmé sat heavily behind her desk and buried her face into her hands. She didn't know what she was going to do. She didn't know how this would help, if it would help, what else she could do to stop it or ensure its success. She just didn't know anything anymore.

She hoped that wherever he was, Vader was alright.

---

It was midmorning and the senate session had begun. Siri walked around with purpose, hiding her anxiety as she motioned to her handmaidens. She hadn't had time to go over the daily agenda with them since she had been talking to Obi-Wan about issues with Padmé.

Padmé. Why did everything have to revolve around her these days? Couldn't they just have enough to worry about without having to clean up her messes too? It wasn't like Siri didn't care—she just wished Padmé would go back to her old reputation of not being as reckless as Siri was. Right now she'd take anything over the insanity of their current predicament. She couldn't keep doing this, not when she had a youngling to worry about.

The handmaidens approached her expectantly. Siri sighed, pulling herself together. Explaining the usual agenda, she ended by saying she had to speak further with Cordé. She handed Lek Ieru a data pad to deliver to some senator just to get her out of the room; she was too new and wasn't trained for bodyguard assignments anyway.

"Siri, what's wrong?" Cordé asked as soon as they were alone. "You look tired. All of you look tired; Padmé, you, Obi-Wan… what's going on?"

"Padmé's going to be taking a trip tomorrow," Siri explained. "There's a possibility that there might be trouble."

"Is this an official trip?" Cordé asked. She, like Sabé, had never been told about Padmé's clandestine dealings, but they'd no doubt come to their own conclusions about the matter. Sabé. Blast it Siri missed her.

"Yes," she answered. "We need you to stand in for her. She'll be accompanying as a guard."

Cordé nodded. "Of course."

With the main issue settled, Siri and Cordé went over the finer points until they were both satisfied. An hour had almost passed in that time, and she eventually dismissed Cordé so she could go to Padmé and see if she needed anything. Siri would rather just sit in the foyer and wait for lunch at this point. Lek reentered, catching Siri off guard. Shouldn't she be helping the representatives? She'd told her to go to them after delivering the data pad.

Sighing, Siri headed towards a chair in the foyer, more concerned with getting off her aching feet for a little while; she'd talk to Ieru in a moment. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up all of a sudden, though, and her gut clenched as if she was hit with a sudden wave of anxiety. Her head pounded, everything slowed, and her senses went on full alert. What was wrong?

Turning, Siri saw her sweet, new, and innocent handmaiden pulling out a blaster.

In a heartbeat she dove for cover as a blaster bolt flew past her ear. The chairs weren't much use for a fight, though, and Ieru started to march towards her, holding her weapon at the ready. Siri glanced for other places she could go to and looked pleadingly at the wall where there was a hidden compartment for occasions just like this. It kriffing figured that her blaster would be on the opposite side of the room when this happened.

But why? What was going on? Who the hell was this handmaiden?

Siri leapt out from behind the chair as Ieru fired once more. Now really wasn't the time to be answering those questions. Her thought process didn't get much farther as she barely missed another blaster bolt; it was a miracle she was dodging these things, honestly, but how was she going to get to her own weapon without getting shot? It was open space between her and—

Siri yelled out as the blaster bolt singed her left shoulder. Her nerves screamed in protest and then grew numb. A stun bolt; why was she firing at her with a stun bolt?

Terror filled her and Siri stumbled after being hit, falling out into the open. Ieru was seconds away from pulling the trigger once more, her aim directly on Siri's chest, when a large hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her arm harshly. Ieru yelled out, kicking at a steep angle. Siri's eyes followed the hand to an arm to a face—Qui-Gon.

Ieru kicked again, landing a hit on Qui-Gon's face, but he only flinched and took a step back. As Ieru aimed her blaster at his face he once again grabbed her wrist and moved his head to the side so she couldn't shoot him in the face. He punched her on the nose, but as she tipped back she let her feet go off the ground and slam into Qui-Gon's chest. He grunted, releasing her and she fell to the ground, but she arched her back and leapt to her feet once more, her blaster on the floor, forgotten, as she kneed him while he was down. Qui-Gon rolled aside to dodge her and swept his leg powerfully, knocking her down. He hadn't used the Force yet, surprisingly, but it made sense; he didn't want to reveal his true identity unless there was no other way.

Help. He needed help. Get up. Get up.

Siri flinched and leapt to her feet, searching for the blaster Ieru had dropped. When her hand slid under an upturned chair she felt the weapon, and she glanced up to see the progress of the fight. Ieru had rolled so she was on her stomach and pushed herself to a standing position as Qui-Gon leapt to his feet as well. Ieru came in with a left hook, which Qui-Gon deflected to punch her squarely in the chest. She fell back, winded, but then she charged towards him and leapt as if to jump on top of him, which was exactly what she did; she leapt onto his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck in an attempt to choke him.

Siri grabbed the blaster and aimed. Ieru caught sight of her, though, and arched herself backwards to upset Qui-Gon's balance and make him fall so Siri couldn't hit her. Siri hesitated, not wanting to accidentally shoot Qui-Gon, and Ieru took the moment to make a run for it, releasing her hold on the Jedi and tearing out the door. Siri leapt over Qui-Gon, who had fallen, and chased after the handmaiden at full speed, but the morning session was just ending and she couldn't shoot in the hallway since it was filling up with delegates and senators. Security caught up to Siri and tackled her, yanking the blaster out of her hands as she screamed at them in protest.

"Get off me, you idiots!" she yelled. "That woman attacked me!"

"Let her go, she's right." Qui-Gon's voice came from behind her, sounding winded. "She's no threat."

The security nodded. "She's no threat. Let her go."

Siri roughly shoved the guard off after he lessened his grip, and she dropped the blaster. There was no point in looking around for the handmaiden now, but she did so anyway and saw that she was becoming quite the spectacle to all the politicians. Shavit. Panting for air, she stormed back to Padmé's office and finally noticed that she was shaking from head to foot. This wasn't the first time she'd engaged in combat, but it was the first time it had happened in a public setting.

The baby. Her hand went to her abdomen, and she trembled even more. Qui-Gon reentered the foyer and immediately went to her. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," she replied, and she was surprised at how much her voice shook.

This had to stop. Now. She couldn't do this. Not with a baby.

"Obi-Wan," she suddenly said, looking at Qui-Gon, silently asking him to find her husband.

Qui-Gon nodded, guiding her to a chair. Siri hugged herself tightly and then held her abdomen again. She didn't feel off, and there was no pain, so the baby was okay, right? Right?

Seconds later Obi-Wan rushed into the room just as Qui-Gon was leaving to find him. "Siri, what happened?"

"The handmaiden—the baby—the baby," Siri shuddered, bending forward.

Obi-Wan pulled her to him and held her fiercely. She heard him say to Qui-Gon, "Get Padmé. We'll meet you at our apartment."

Qui-Gon acknowledged Obi-Wan and then left. Siri continued to tremble in her husband's embrace, but after a few more seconds she started to get her wits about her. Nothing felt wrong, nothing seemed wrong, nothing hurt or felt different… the baby had to be fine. It had to be. Having a panic attack about it would only make things worse, especially if there was nothing wrong in the first place.

The baby was fine, blast it.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan asked again, pulling away so he could look her in the eye.

"The new handmaiden," Siri finally got a hold of herself. "The… she attacked me. She must be some sort of spy. I… I'm fine. I… the baby…"

Obi-Wan's hand went to her abdomen. "Is the baby alright?"

"I… I think so," she let out with a gasp of air as her emotions overwhelmed her momentarily. Obi-Wan held her again, any discomfort on his part completely forgotten. Eventually, she was the one to break the contact. "We need to leave."

Obi-Wan nodded and helped her stand. The door to the foyer opened again and Cordé burst into the room. "They said—people said you were shot—what happened?"

"She's fine," Obi-Wan explained for her. "We need you to meet us at our apartment."

"Right. Of course." Cordé immediately nodded, rushing over to Siri and walking alongside her as Obi-Wan guided her out of the room. She stayed with them for a few seconds more before walking ahead of them, saying, "I'll make sure the path is clear."

The walk to the parking area was a blur to Siri as she continuously probed her abdomen and ensured she didn't feel any different apart from the adrenaline rushing through her system. The more time elapsed, the safer the baby seemed, but she was still shaking from head to foot, unable to confirm or deny that anything was wrong. She hated this feeling.

Eventually Obi-Wan guided Siri into their speeder. Padmé was already in there with Qui-Gon and Cordé.

"Siri, are you okay?" Padmé immediately asked, sounding frantic.

Cordé flew the speeder out of the senate building as Obi-Wan and Padmé both assaulted Siri with questions. Qui-Gon answered them for the most part, and Siri spent more time checking her abdomen than anything else. By the time they reached the apartment Padmé and Obi-Wan were both hugging Siri silently. Qui-Gon helped her out of the speeder and her husband and sister-in-law hovered beside her as Cordé unlocked everything and said she'd get an Emdee droid; all the senatorial apartments had one on standby.

Siri sat on the couch and took several deep breaths, trying to center herself since her husband and friend were a wreck. She didn't feel much better, honestly, but she was steadily growing more assured that the baby was fine. So long as that was the case, she was fine, too. Now that she was starting to think straight, other concerns flooded her mind.

"The handmaiden was a spy, a traitor," she said, hugging herself. "She could know anything. She could… she could know about us, about Qui-Gon, about Al, about you, Padmé, about Éothen… anything…"

"Calm yourself," Qui-Gon advised in his steady, deep tone. "Let's concern ourselves with handling whatever damage could immediately occur."

"Padmé's not safe," Siri immediately said.

"You're not safe," Obi-Wan corrected her worriedly.

"Al," Siri added with surprise and realization; they hadn't heard from him in over twenty-four hours. Something had happened. Normally she'd immediately grow angry and spring into action, but after all her panic over the baby she was extremely reserved; the world around her felt muted. Her shoulder was still numb from the stun bolt, and it made her entire body sway as if the bolt had reached her mind, her heart, her resolve… she shuddered. She had to get it together; she couldn't fall apart like this. She'd never fallen apart like this.

Cordé reappeared with the Emdee droid, and Siri finally was able to breathe and relax when the droid claimed there were no injuries to her or her youngling. Cordé looked even more surprised and terrified when the droid declared this.

"You're pregnant?" she asked. "Are you sure you're—"

"Cordé, the droid just said I'm fine," Siri assured, finally calm after getting some concrete proof that the baby was healthy. "You need to go back for the afternoon session as Padmé; she can't go back."

"She wasn't the one who was attacked," Cordé noted, looking confused, but she didn't argue beyond that; she probably assumed it had to do with their unofficial business.

"The representatives will notice something's up," Padmé pointed out halfheartedly.

"Rekk can handle it," Siri said. "He owes you his life, Padmé; he's got enough brains to be able to figure out something's up and cover for you, especially if Cordé talks to him." She then turned her attention to the handmaiden. "Obi will meet up with you and let you know if the plan changes for tomorrow."

Siri immediately felt Obi-Wan tense beside her, but she grabbed his hand and squeezed it to silence any argument. Cordé reluctantly agreed and departed. Obi-Wan immediately turned to Siri, but she cut him off. "Get your head on straight, Obi. The baby's fine. We have to fix this."

Obi-Wan's gaze wandered from her to her abdomen back to her and he sighed heavily, looking away.

"Siri, I… what happened? Why would they send someone after you?" Padmé asked, pacing restlessly from the window, which was what she'd been doing ever since they got there.

"Guess that's why they've been so quiet around you," Siri muttered, looking at her sister-in-law. "They turned their fangs on me instead."

"You need to leave." Obi-Wan immediately said. "Imperial Center isn't safe for you anymore."

"Like it's going to be safe for any of you?" she rebutted, standing. "If Ieru was after me she'll no doubt be after you, Obi, and I doubt they just forgot about Padmé."

"Regardless, you're leaving as soon as possible," Obi-Wan argued. "I'm calling Al."

As he did so, Siri asked Padmé, "Is there any way we can all leave early with Éothen?"

"Leaving immediately in one large group is too suspicious," Qui-Gon shook his head, unperturbed. Obi-Wan and Siri had told him about Éothen during their meeting yesterday, and after last night's fiasco they'd made contact with him and spoken about the matter, so he was up to speed on everything.

"Al's not answering," Obi-Wan muttered, staring at his comlink worriedly.

"It's got to be because of Ieru," Siri moaned.

"He could be anywhere," Padmé looked between Obi-Wan and Siri, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "You don't think Ieru… she wouldn't have killed him, would she?"

Siri sat morosely on the sofa, unable to answer.

"We can't spend our time speculating. We need to act." Qui-Gon advised them. "I will remain here and protect Siri and Padmé. Obi-Wan, you should go speak to Tlenden about the matter."

Obi-Wan looked angrily at the Jedi, not wanting to be parted from his wife, but Siri shook her head towards him. He needed to go; he was the only one who could do so. She wanted nothing more than to be held by him, but she knew that wouldn't do anything to solve their predicament. The long hours of just being with each other and pretending nothing else mattered could be spent aboard a ship, assuming they could get the heck out of here before another attack.

Eventually her husband sighed and nodded. He gave one last glance to Siri and left.

---

This was a nightmare. This was a nightmare.

He'd suspected attacks on Padmé. He'd assumed she was still being watched. He wasn't entirely sure, no, but he wouldn't have been surprised. It was the entire reason Qui-Gon was there to protect her. But Siri? No, no, he couldn't handle an attack on her, he couldn't bear the thought that his wife or child could be hurt.

Obi-Wan did his best to stop his hands from trembling as he piloted the speeder back to the senate building. Thankfully the traffic was so thick he didn't have to worry much about flying very fast.

Who was Lek Ieru? Who was she working for? The Empire, obviously, but who specifically? Intelligence? Palpatine? Vader? Why was Siri targeted now? What had tipped them off? Had all the fuss over Padmé been a diversion, or had the investigation on Padmé led them to Siri instead?

For a brief second Obi-Wan was tempted to seek out Darth Vader, but it had only been for a very brief second. Padmé herself had said that he wasn't trustworthy despite her own certainty that he was able to be turned to their cause. No, that man was of no use right now – he was probably the instigator of this entire mess.

Frustration and helplessness coursed through him, and he did his best to shove it down. This wasn't the time, and he knew it. He couldn't fall apart now.

Why Siri?

Obi-Wan landed the speeder in the senate building and hastily sought out Tlenden. He tried not to think too much about the sight of Siri sitting in a chair in the foyer with blaster burns in the carpet and chairs overturned. He tried to forget how much she trembled in his arms, how terrified they'd both been, how close they'd come to losing their youngling.

Eventually the Tsograda Sector's senator came into view and Obi-Wan walked quickly towards him. The concern tearing through his mind and heart obviously was evident on his face, because as soon as Tlenden saw him he dismissed all his aides and representatives and approached Obi-Wan. "What's wrong? There were rumors that one of Senator Amidala's handmaidens was attacked."

"They're true. She's fine. We need to talk in private." He said hastily, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

The senator barely had time to respond before Obi-Wan started to guide him towards Padmé's office where they could speak freely, but then he realized that the scene of the crime was there as well. He couldn't go back there. Tlenden seemed to notice his distress and suggested, "Perhaps we can speak at my apartment. There's still time before the afternoon session."

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded. The trip was spent in silence until they finally reached the senator's apartment. Its design was similar to Padmé's, though the large den was decorated in a similar fashion to the Salkenden architecture he'd seen in Fjesky, the capital city.

A Togruta male with orange-brown skin, shorter than normal head tails, and tall montrals was in the den, his left arm in a sling. He had a strong, muscular build. Beside him was a Human female who bore a similar build to her companion. Her deep blue eyes shone against her brown skin and matched her blue tattoo that encircled her right eye, and her sharp gaze fell upon Obi-Wan as soon as he entered the room alongside Tlenden.

"Representative, this is our Perillinen, Éothen of the Ønske clan," Tlenden introduced him. Motioning to the woman, he said, "And this is Lt. Erwyna of my own clan; she's his second-in-command."

It struck Obi-Wan as so odd that this was the first time he'd actually met Éothen after all the fuss that had been surrounding him. This man was going to be Obi-Wan's brother-in-law if Padmé's plans came to fruition. But that didn't matter right now – getting off Imperial Center was the priority.

His mind wandered to Al. Where was he? Why wasn't he responding? Had Ieru gotten to him, as Siri suspected? Was he dead? Alive? Hurt? Lost?

Obi-Wan abruptly remembered the introduction and bowed from the waist in greeting, but he couldn't muster the stamina to speak pleasantries. Instead, he got straight to the point. "There was an attack on one of Padmé's handmaidens. My wife. I… we were planning on accompanying Padmé to Salkende with you, but time is of the essence now. I would be eternally grateful if you could get Siri to Salkende as soon as possible."

Éothen and Erwyna exchanged surprised and worried glances. "Is she alright?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said slowly, as if he was still trying to reassure himself. Honestly, he was still trying to do that.

"Erwyna could leave with her tonight," Senator Tlenden suggested. "As soon as the afternoon session is finished she could take one of the escort shuttles back. You and your wife can accompany her. Éothen and I can leave with Senator Amidala in the morning."

"Early morning," Éothen emphasized. "We'll only leave a few hours after you."

Obi-Wan was surprised at their generosity, but he recalled that Tlenden had been a kind host on Salkende. He certainly was grateful for it, and he expressed his gratitude multiple times over the course of their planning. After the matter was settled, he left the apartment in a daze, heading back towards his apartment to relay the news to Padmé, Siri, and Qui-Gon. He and Siri would leave tonight with Erwyna, and Padmé would remain with Qui-Gon until tomorrow morning when she left with the official party. Cordé would still go disguised as her and Padmé would be with Qui-Gon dressed as a guard.

They were almost through. He kept reassuring himself of that. He and Siri would be gone in a few hours, and Padmé would follow soon after. As soon as they left Imperial Center they would never come back. That much was certain. But how would they remain safe on Salkende unless they basically blockaded the place?

One step at a time. He breathed deeply, trying to think of nothing else. They were almost done. Just a few more hours and they'd leave this wretched hive of scum and villainy far behind them.

---

She stood before him, silent and radiating with inner strength. Her face was blank, her eyes glistening with determination. Her belly bulged so much she could barely stand straight. He paced around her, examining her, testing the Force for the strength within her womb. All the while he continued to glance at her, to see how she reacted. She always held herself with dignity, even though she was a slave. She always stood strong and never cowered before him. She always bowed when needed, did as he ordered, and took care to not upset him, but she never gave into him. Many a beating had done little to teach her that her station was decidedly below his. Although she never said a word against him, her entire being radiated quiet confidence and defiance. Despite owning her for two years, he had never broken her.

The child inside her shared her strength and increased it tenfold. Its power seeped into her, increasing her resolve. She could have escaped; she was allowed more freedom now that she was pregnant than she ever had before. All she had to do was kill the youngling so she wouldn't be impaired and make a run for it. But she never had. The baby always came first, even though they both knew that as soon as her usefulness was finished she would no longer be necessary. The baby was all he cared about.

She stayed strong and resilient, no matter the cost. She always looked out for her unborn child. He never managed to break her. Even at the last moment, the last time she drew breath, she still didn't cower before him. Instead, she'd smiled; she'd smiled and said that her precious Anakin would shine brighter than any star in the universe. He'd agreed. After all, the boy was the most powerful Force user he'd ever seen. But his brightness would be that of a supernova: destructive, chaotic, and deadly. He never managed wipe the smile off her face, even after his lightsaber had dug into her.

Palpatine pushed the thoughts aside, glancing at the hospital bed. Darth Vader was fast asleep, having finally slipped into unconsciousness when the Sith Master had used the Force to ensure he did so; the boy had been up all night, and it wasn't good for his health.

There were rumors that someone had attacked a handmaiden in the senate building. Most hearsay seemed to point to one of the handmaidens of the Chommel Sector. No doubt it had to do with Tarkin; Vader would have stopped investigating as soon as Palpatine said it wasn't his mission, and Intelligence would have reported if they were going to cause trouble. He didn't concern himself with the matter too much – his priority was right in front of him. Everything else was inconsequential until Vader finished his mission, the mission that Palpatine had started for him long before the final recess.

Ever since Palpatine had decided that Vader's cold, emotionless efficiency wouldn't be enough, he'd started planning different ways to get the boy to feel his passions once more. He'd tried a few grizzly missions, some frustrating and gruesome interrogations, but none had worked. One day he heard about Padmé Amidala being elected as the new monarch for Naboo. He did a little investigation on her, always curious as to what was occurring on his homeworld, and when he noticed her leanings he immediately recognized her as both a nuisance and the possibility of a threat. He'd arranged to have her eliminated, but when she'd thwarted him, he finally put more time and effort into investigating her since she was now worthy of his full attention. Her stubbornness, her passion, her beauty, her naïveté… it was the perfect solution for his lost apprentice. What could spark more emotion and passion than a romance? What could stir a young man more than a beautiful woman? What could pique Vader's curiosity more than someone so fundamentally different from him? Palpatine had introduced the two as a means to keep Amidala in line, but also as a means to teach Vader what it truly meant to be a Sith.

All he'd had to do from that beginning point was some fine tuning. Vader's bluntness needed checking, and he had to ensure Amidala knew that Vader was the one who would be watching her. As soon as she'd made her foolish decision to tempt him so he could have sympathies towards her, the emperor had known everything was set. He had prepared the stage, and now that he'd placed the players there the opera was ready to begin. The two had run off to Naboo together, and Palpatine had waited patiently. He'd sensed as Vader's emotional control steadily slipped, as the passionate woman's thoughts and temptations seeped between the tight junctions that formed the protective shield around his mind and heart. Once Vader had returned he'd sensed the change, he'd noted the newfound secret Vader had greedily kept from his master – his affection for the girl had taken root. Now she'd torn his heart to shreds, and he would want revenge. The climax had arrived. It was now time for the resolution.

Amidala had done her job. She'd served her purpose. Now she was overstaying her welcome; inviting Tsograda to join the Alliance was something Palpatine did not want, and he would ensure that it stopped now. He'd already made an effort to do so at the opera, but he wouldn't stop there. He had no need to openly attack Salkende, for that would provoke a counterstrike. All he had to do was make a surgical incision.

Palpatine smiled as he stroked his apprentice's forehead, watching him sleep. Yes, an incision would work perfectly. All he needed was to wait for his dear surgeon to wake up.

---

Hope you enjoyed it. :)