The gentle lure of death felt all too tempting. Obi-Wan Kenobi sat beside her. In his arms, he held a baby boy—in front of them, a medical droid held a baby girl.
Luke, Leia, she had called them. Darkness shrouded the corners of her eyes; her breath stuttered, and her head fell back against the table.
She had known that Anakin was still alive from the moment Obi-Wan entered the ship—somewhere, hidden deep within the monster that overtook him. The sadness would be numbing if it wasn't so raw. She felt herself slipping away as she looked to Obi-Wan, her old friend, the man that filled the place beside her that was supposed to belong to Anakin.
Padmé Amidala was not afraid of death—she was afraid of what happened next. Not for her, but for those around her. She was afraid of leaving her children behind, alone in a galaxy that has just gone up in flames.
A trembling hand outstretched from the table.
Obi-Wan noticed her efforts and graciously leaned forward, allowing her to lower the blanket that covered Luke's face. Through her tears, she saw the baby squirm in his arms.
He was crying, kicking his feet out—but even then, he was beautiful. An overwhelming weight of responsibility fell over her.
"I don't want to die," she choked out.
Obi-Wan looked over to her. "You're not going to die, Padmé," he assured.
Her weak grip on Luke's blanket tightened. She fought against herself; against the pain and the agony that gripped her heart with cold, rotting hands.
Though death seemed comforting, though all of the stability in her life had been ripped away, she would not allow herself to leave her children behind. Not after Anakin had already done the same.
Exhaustion leaked into her body like molasses. Her heavy eyelids fluttered shut, and she fell into a deep slumber.
Deep space
19 BBY
"I cannot just abandon my responsibilities. I have an obligation to the people."
Padmé Amidala sat at the white conference table on the Tantive IV, surrounded by Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Master Yoda.
Though the passing days had gone by in a blur, she was present enough to realize they were not the only ones affected by the fall of the Republic. Her heart felt heavy with grief—but the time to mourn would come later.
Yoda shook his head gravely. "In the open, too dangerous it is," he insisted. "Into hiding, you must go, for your protection."
"And what will I say to the citizens of Naboo?" she asked. "With a new power rising, they will need someone to defend them."
"I'm afraid you have much more important matters to concern yourself with." Bail's gaze flickered down to the baby girl in his arms. Her eyes followed. "What will you do with the children?"
"Split up, they must be," said Yoda.
Padmé looked appalled at the suggestion. "I refuse to accept that as the only option," she said. "There must be a way to keep us together safely."
Obi-Wan stroked his beard. "Is there anywhere you could take refuge? Somewhere that the Sith won't find you?"
Padmé thought for a moment; her eyes fell to the baby boy that slept soundly in her arms. She adjusted the blanket around his face and looked up.
"I suppose there is one place."
Obi-Wan leaned forward. "Where?"
"On Naboo," she said, "there's a small estate in Keren. It's been in my family for generations."
"Able to locate you, would Skywalker be?"
Padmé felt a pang of grief at the mention of his name. "I don't believe so."
"Then where you will go, that is," Yoda said.
"How will we explain her supposed passing?" Bail asked. "Padmé is a widely respected public figure. The people of Naboo will expect a funeral, at the very least."
A moment of thick silence passed. Yoda hummed. "A decoy, we shall put in her place."
"A decoy?" asked Obi-Wan.
Bail faced forward. "Their lives must remain a secret."
"What are we to do if he finds us?" Padmé asked.
Silence plagued the room. Yoda leaned forward in his chair, balancing some of his weight on his cane.
"Protecting the children, our priority must be," he replied. "Go with Obi-Wan and Bail, they will, in the case of an emergency."
Padmé agreed.
"With hopes that such a thing will never occur," Bail started, "my wife and I can take care of the girl. She would be safe with us."
Obi-Wan looked over to baby Luke, troubled.
"Where shall I take the boy?"
"Tatooine," Yoda replied. "To his family, send him."
His eyes lifted to Padmé for her approval; she gave a solemn nod. "All right," she said, "but I ask that you stay close by. I don't trust them enough on their own."
"Very well," said Obi-Wan after a moment. "I will honor your wishes the best I can."
Padmé looked down at Luke.
Though the Republic had collapsed, the Jedi had fallen, the survivors were limited—she knew that dwelling on the past would get them nowhere. She could only push forward and hope that one day, the man she loved would come back to her.
Naboo
18 BBY
One standard cycle since the fall of the Republic.
A lone cottage stood on the outskirts of Karen, small amidst the fields of flowers that surrounded it. Padmé lingered in the kitchen beside a young Luke and Leia, peering out the window impatiently.
"All right," she muttered and crouched beside the children. "Since Obi-Wan is running behind, we'll just have to go to the market ourselves. How does that sound?"
The two didn't give a response. She blew a loose strand of hair out of her face and picked them up, one in each arm, bringing them over to the living area.
Much of the cottage reminded her of her childhood home. It was quaint and peaceful; not too large, not too small. A narrow hallway occupied the space beside the sofa and ran down to the bedrooms, a small closet, and a refresher.
Padmé gently lowered the two in front of the couch, making sure they were steady before crossing the room and rummaging through the wooden chest in the corner. She fished through the sea of dolls and little spaceships to try to find the makeshift baby carrier lost inside.
The piece was fashioned from the scraps of one of her old dresses, cut up and sewn back together to make it easily transportable.
Once she spotted it, she drew it into the light and walked back to the children.
The local market wasn't far. But unfortunately, Obi-Wan had taken their shared vehicle earlier that morning, so it seemed they would be traveling on foot. Padmé slipped on the baby sling and strapped the children into place—Leia in front, and Luke on her back. Once they were secured, she wrote a short note for Obi-Wan and left it on the counter.
Out of food for the kids. Will be back soon.
The chilled morning breeze brushed past them as she locked the door. Naboo was truly a beautiful planet. Padmé regarded it as the best, though she was admittedly a little bit biased. There was no other place she wished to be.
She only wished it was under different circumstances.
The fields were in full bloom at this time of year. The kids enjoyed sitting outside when the weather allowed; Leia walked her first steps in the gardens a week prior.
Once they arrived at the market, Padmé adjusted the covering over her face. The stores hung under towering green trees, colorful and vibrant, each booth holding merchandise inside.
This market would always be her favorite. Despite everything happening in the galaxy around them, the people maintained their kindness toward each other. It was places like this that made her feel a sense of pride over her planet; the way that, even in uncertainty, their people were able to spring back and find ways to thrive.
The market was much busier than usual; people crowded around the area, each sentient in search of items to satisfy their own needs. Padmé walked to a booth with an orange drop cloth.
"May I help you?" the woman behind the counter asked.
"Please." Padmé smiled, though the merchant could only see her eyes. "How much are your fruit baskets?"
"For now, four credits." The woman laughed lightly. "They were just harvested this morning, but I'll tell you, we're selling out quickly. It seems the whole town heard of the new batch."
"It's always nice to see support within our community." Padmé looked up from where she browsed the other available items. "How much for a fresh loaf of bread?"
"Three credits," the merchant replied.
Padmé pursed her lips. "All right. I will take one fruit basket and one loaf of bread, please."
"You've got it," the merchant said. She grabbed the items off of the shelf and put them together. "You know, we don't normally have enough baskets to hand out—but since you already have your hands full, I'll grab one that I can send you with."
"That's very kind of you," Padmé said gratefully. Her shoulders were already aching from the weight hanging on them. She gently pushed a sleeping Leia to the side to grab her small purse.
As Padmé shuffled through the credits, she suddenly lost her grip and the bag fell to the ground. She reached for it, the movement causing her head covering to come undone.
"Here, let me help."
A man leaned over and grabbed the bag, extending it toward her. She accepted. "Thank you."
"No worries." He gestured to Luke and Leia. "My partner and I are expecting our first."
"Oh, that's wonderful," Padmé said with a bright smile. She tugged the pull string open and sifted through her credits. "Congratulations."
The man nodded. Then, paused, his eyes narrowed. "You look awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"
Her hands stilled.
After a moment, she placed the credits on the counter in front of her and put the bag away. She looked away as she tried to fix her covering.
"No, I don't believe so."
But it didn't seem to curb his interest. He quirked his head to the side, suspicious. "You're in politics, right?"
An unwelcome spike of adrenaline hot through her veins at his words. "I truly do not know what you're talking about, sir," she said.
He looked confused. "I'm pretty sure I've voted for you."
"Don't you know better than to look at a lady without her covering?" the merchant admonished when she returned. "Leave the young woman alone."
Padmé took in a shuddering breath. She pushed the credits toward the woman and grabbed the basket, stepping out of the booth.
She was nearly out of range when she heard the telltale click of a commlink and the man's voice one last time:
"...yes, Padmé Amidala. She was just here."
»»««
"Sir, we've just received an urgent report from Naboo."
Grand Moff Tarkin crossed the bridge, standing above the men inside the pit. "Go on."
"Well," the operator hesitated, "a dead senator has supposedly come back to life."
"A dead senator?" asked Tarkin. The man operating the control board winced.
"Yes, sir," he replied. "Padmé Amidala. Local authorities are now searching for any sign of her that they can find."
The air in the room seemed to shift.
Tarkin pursed his lips. "Good," he said before regarding the workers. "No one speaks of this to anyone until given further instruction. I will handle it from here."
"Yes, sir."
The Grand Moff set his jaw and strode back toward the turbolift, taking a step inside. A button clicked; as the lift smoothly began to descend, he drew out his holoprojector.
The room suddenly tinted with blue. Two scaled-down figures appeared in the palm of his hand, and he dipped his head in greeting.
"My lords," said Tarkin. "I bring news."
»»««
A pair of footsteps echoed off the walls of the Emperor's flagship, clicking rapidly against the glassy floor. The material of their robes flowed behind them; one of jet black and another of dark crimson. Their words cut through the sheer layer of silence that lingered on the ship.
"I'm sure Father will not be pleased to hear of this," the man with the crimson robe stated.
"There is no news he is ever truly pleased to hear," the other returned. "If Lord Vader is as strong as he believes, Father should take no issue with the matter."
A company of patrolling Stormtroopers parted to make way for them. The taller of the two, clad in crimson, gave a nod of acknowledgment to the unit before continuing forward. Before long, he noticed his companion's brows furrow.
"Is something on your mind, Javon?"
The black-robed man grimaced as he was addressed. "If Father had chosen me as his apprentice, such complications would never exist."
The one in crimson sighed at his words. "It is nothing against you personally," he said. "You must have patience and trust that he has more for us."
"I've been patient, and where has that gotten me?" Javon remarked as the two walked. "We remain in the shadows while Father allows outsiders to steal what is rightfully ours. First the Dathomirian, then Tyranus, and now another Jedi."
"Our time will come." The crimson-robed man narrowed his eyes at the look his brother gave him. "One day."
Javon shook his head. "I don't understand," he said. "Father's pupils have never been able to accomplish what we could so easily. What makes him believe that this one will be any different?"
"Lord Vader has done a commendable job so far," the crimson-robes man offered, albeit unhelpfully.
"Lord Vader is only doing well in comparison to Father's other failures," the other shot back. "The standard would have been held higher if he had chosen me instead."
The one in crimson watched his companion for a moment before looking forward again. "Careful," he cautioned. "Do not allow your path to be led by arrogance, brother."
"I am only stating what must be acknowledged," Javon said. "Both of us are versed well enough to take the place of a true apprentice. Why hasn't he given us the chance? We are his flesh and blood, Aronan."
The one in crimson, Aronan, sighed again. The throne room was in sight. He gestured for his brother to halt.
"I know that you're anxious for opportunity," he said, "but for now, we must hope that Father is preparing us for something greater."
A short beat passed. "Perhaps you're right."
The blast doors slid open, and the two of them straightened before entering the throne room. As their footsteps echoed off the walls, their eyes landed on their father, sitting on the throne, his entire figure shrouded in darkness.
"My sons."
Aronan tipped his head in lieu of a greeting. Javon stepped forward. "Father," he announced. "We come bearing news."
The Emperor's dry lips parted. "So you have."
Javon took his words as an invitation to continue.
"We have received word of a Nabooian senator that has come back to life." He met his eyes. "Padmé Amidala."
His words hung in the air. The Emperor's face twisted into a scowl, displaying his rows of cracked teeth.
"Amidala?"
His voice was low, grated. A bitter sense of recognition manifested itself in the Force around him.
Aronan nodded. "Yes, Father."
They stayed silent as the Emperor stood from the throne, slowly making his way down the steps in front of him.
"This is… unexpected," he said, strained. "When did this report find its way here?"
"Earlier today," Aronan responded. "There is an active search for her as we speak. Local authorities are searching the nearby towns."
Another beat passed. Javon hesitantly cleared his throat. "Father, we humbly ask that you would allow us to investigate this matter ourselves."
The Emperor seemed contemplative.
"I will decide which course of action is necessary," he said. "You are to garrison a squad to Naboo and nothing else. I will ask Lord Vader to accompany them."
Aronan looked up in surprise. He glanced over to Javon before turning his attention back to the Emperor.
"But Lord Vader mustn't know of her existence," he said. "It would put far too much at stake."
The Emperor turned to walk back to his throne, uninterested. "I am certain he is capable of completing the tasks asked of him."
"If I may, Father, that is not the issue," Aronan tried. "If you have already told of her fate and he realizes that it was incorrect, will his trust in your Empire not be shaken?"
The Emperor's steps halted. The man continued, "To maintain the peace we have, we cannot allow this news to find Lord Vader."
The whole room went silent. Crimson clad guards stationed across the room stood motionless, and his brother watched, his eyes flickering between the two of them.
"Very well," the Emperor said finally. "The both of you will accompany the squad in place of Lord Vader. I want her alive."
"Alive?" asked Javon. "What benefit would it bring us to bring her here?"
"Not here. Lord Vader would sense her presence." The Emperor sat on his throne. "You will hide her until she is of use to us. With her, perhaps we will be able to keep Lord Vader on our side permanently."
They nodded.
"If Amidala is alive, their child must be as well," the Emperor continued, looking between them. "You are to kill it."
Aronan's eyes snapped up as Javon tipped his head forward.
"We will not disappoint you, Father," his brother said. "We thank you for putting your trust in us."
A beat passed. The Emperor watched them with an unreadable expression.
"You are dismissed."
They turned and walked away. Aronan found it difficult to conceal his disgust until they were outside of the door.
Kill a child?
The thought echoed throughout his mind.
If Amidala was still expectant when she went into hiding, it would only be a year old. The child would likely not even be old enough to walk yet.
Yes, perhaps it was the child of an enemy—but, regardless of affiliation, a child was still a child.
"Well brother," Javon said, "it seems as though our efforts have finally paid off."
Aronan didn't look at him. "So they have."
»»««
"Obi-Wan, do you copy?"
Her hands shook beneath the commlink in her hands. The device chirped after an excruciating moment of silence.
"I copy. What is the matter? I told you I would be back soon."
"Someone saw me," Padmé explained. "In the marketplace. It all happened so quickly—"
"It's all right," Obi-Wan cut in. "Take yourself and the children into the safe room. I will get there as soon as I can."
Padmé clicked the commlink off and set it down, mumbling something under her breath as she walked to the middle of the hall.
Hidden beneath the floorboards was a small keypad; she tapped in the code, causing a plank inside the closet behind her to creak upward. She lifted it the rest of the way and braced it with a wooden staff before grabbing Luke and Leia.
Padmé flicked on the light as she walked down the steps of the safe room, carrying the young children in and gently laying them into their cribs. When Luke stirred, his face scrunching at the dim, flickering light over him, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.
"It'll be all right," she assured quietly, "it's all right."
Leia stood unsteadily, leaning on the bars of her crib. Padmé looked at her sadly. Once Luke had fallen back asleep, she walked to Leia, brushing her hand against the side of her face.
Padmé hid the keypad again and started to close the trapdoor when her commlink beeped from the counter. She blew out a breath and stepped back into the hall, lowering the door before walking into the kitchen.
"Padmé. Is everything all right?"
She held a button. "The kids are in the safe room. I'm headed down now."
"Stay there until I arrive," Obi-Wan said. "Don't come upstairs until the area is clear."
Padmé began to reply but cut herself off, startled by the noises she heard outside of the window.
"Padmé?"
Footsteps. Tens of them.
"Padmé, what's happening?"
She looked between the hall and the window. There was no time for her to get to safety without them seeing. Her commlink blinked in her hand once more; Obi-Wan. She took in a breath and dropped the device to the ground, crushing it beneath the sole of her shoe.
Then, four raps at her door.
Her throat constricted. She considered pulling on her covering, but it was no use. Everyone knew why they were here.
More sharp knocks. She cast a glance down the hall one last time.
The door opened on her accord. Instantly, the house was flooded with Stormtroopers; they charged in and surrounded her, blasters drawn.
"Hands up," one of them said.
Padmé looked between them, holding her composure. "What is the charge?"
"I said," they repeated, blaster riling, "hands up."
She set her jaw and complied. Still, she struggled against the restraints once they latched onto her wrists. "I cannot be treated this way without reason," she insisted.
"We'll treat you how we see fit," the Stormtrooper sneered.
"Take the cuffs off her."
They all froze at the sudden voice.
Padmé slowly turned to look at the two men looming over her shoulder as the Stormtrooper beside her faltered.
"But sir, our orders—"
"We are guests in her home," the same man interrupted, looking around the room once before his eyes landed on the trooper expectantly. "Now, the bands. I will not ask twice."
The trooper uncuffed her.
She gingerly rubbed her wrists, watching the men with narrowed eyes. "I'm the only one here," she insisted. "There's no point in searching."
"Sir," one of the Stormtroopers said, turning all of their attention to the chest full of children's toys in the living room. The man in front of her turned to the taller man standing beside him.
"Search the area," he said.
She bit her tongue to stay silent as he walked down the hall. The man gestured to the sofa once the other had left.
"Sit, my dear."
"I would prefer to stand while your men invade my home."
He wore an amused smile. "Well, if you have nothing to hide, there will be no problem, Senator." He took a seat on the couch. "I will admit to a bit of shock when that report came through our systems. I remember you from your serving days."
"I'm afraid the feeling isn't mutual," she replied dryly.
He sighed. "No, you wouldn't know me. But you would know my father rather well. He was the cause of—" He made a vague hand gesture— "all of this."
Slowly, the pieces clicked. "Your father is the Chancellor."
"The Emperor, now."
She hummed, eyes narrowed. "I wasn't aware that he had a son."
"Two of us, actually." His voice had a Coruscanti lilt to it. "Father always kept his work and personal life separate. Life is a delicate balance—he used to say—if one side of the scale is tipped too far, it begins to crumble."
Padmé let out a soft breath when some of the troops walked past the hidden keypad. After a moment, she turned back to the man sitting on her sofa.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I've lived peacefully since the fall of the Republic. I have done nothing to warrant a search."
His expression fell.
"Skywalker," he said, "is the reason we're here."
Padmé's breath caught in her throat.
He rose to meet her where she stood. "You see, my father wants insurance," he said, "and you happen to be exactly what we need."
Her gaze flickered between his eyes.
"The house is clear," a voice suddenly said from behind them. They turned to see the man from earlier. "There is no sign of the child anywhere."
"Where is it?" the man in front of her asked, his blue eyes piercing into hers. "The child. Where is the child?"
Her chin tipped slightly. "I'll die before I tell you."
The taller man stepped forward. "We have what we were sent for, brother," he said. "We must leave."
The first man scowled. He looked to a trooper, and Padmé heard the faint click of a blaster mere seconds before a ring of electricity was shot toward her.
The stun blast overloaded her nervous system instantly; she struggled, knees buckling beneath her and sending her to the ground.
Everything went black.
»»««
By the time Obi-Wan Kenobi arrived at the cottage, everything had been torn apart.
He gripped onto the hilt of his lightsaber and crept inside. The front door was splintered and broken, the cabinets were flung open, the floor was covered with discarded items and thrown decor. He searched through every room—but there was no sign of any life in the house.
He let out a breath and walked toward the keypad, entering the code. The trapdoor hissed open, creaking as it reeled back, and he cautiously descended the flight of stairs.
The light flickered; it was only bright enough to see two infants sleeping in their cribs and emptiness where Padmé should be found. Obi-Wan drew out his commlink.
"Senator Organa, do you copy?"
Crackling static filled the room before Bail's voice. "I copy."
Pained, Obi-Wan looked over to the children, still sleeping soundly in their cradles. "I'm afraid something has happened. Please meet me at the rendezvous point."
A short beat of silence followed his words. "Of course," Bail replied slowly. "I will ask Alian to clear my schedule."
With that, the line went dead.
Kalo Minor
Present Day
Fifteen standard cycles since the fall of the Republic.
"You are not permitted to go into the left wing of the palace for the next four rotations," Javon said as they walked the long corridor. "You will stay in your room. If you wish to leave, you will ask Aronan to escort you."
"Yes, my love," Padmé replied, dull eyes forward.
They halted in front of her room. He turned to her. "Promise me you will follow my instruction."
"I promise."
Javon's smile reached his eyes. "Thank you," he said. "Now, I have matters to attend to. I will see you again before nightfall."
Padmé nodded. He dismissed her and she walked into her room, gently closing the door behind her.
She dragged her feet to the small window, where dim rays of sunshine seeped into the space.
Her room was compact, yes, but she was grateful that she had a bed. The other maidens in the palace were forced to sleep on the ground.
She was given a view of one of the many gardens surrounding the palace. This garden held some of the same types of flowers that her cottage once did.
Memories of Leia taking her first steps in the field resurfaced, and she drew the curtains.
Padmé sat on the bed and undid her braided hair, staring blankly at the bleak, grey walls.
Her eyes didn't burn anymore; the wells of her tears had long since gone dry. She sat in the darkness of her room alone, too exhausted to stand and too anxious to sleep.
Minutes stretched into hours.
Her thoughts were too loud for her liking.