A/N: Thank you for your continued kindness and reviews. I'm really so glad that you feel moved by this story. And, yeah, I really, really hate Palpatine, too (which is one of the reasons that chapter made me nervous-- I was afraid I couldn't make him evil enough). Here is another take on Padmé's death from the Queen's Head of Security, Captain Panaka.

Captain Panaka

I was among the first on Naboo to know what had happened. I will always remember that, and feel honored. I was standing beside the Queen—as always, by the Queen—when the Emperor's message came through. We, in the throne room, were the first to take a moment of silence, even if only because none of us could speak, for Padmé Naberrie Amidala.

I will always be proud of my conduct on that day. Truth be told, what I wanted to do more than anything was to sink to the floor, put my head in my hands, and give way to the grief that hit me like a blaster bolt to my chest. But I didn't. I stood tall. I stood by the Queen as she contacted my nephew on Coruscant to hear his account of what had taken place.

I had wanted to be angry with him, but realized that I couldn't be the moment I saw his face. He looked shattered. I had put him in charge of the Senator's security because he was the best, and I knew that, whatever had gone wrong, he was not to blame. We both knew Padmé Amidala very well, and I believed him when he said that she had forced him to leave her alone. Sometimes there came a point when you just had to stop arguing with her and trust that she knew what she was doing. I had taught him that. And she always had known, until now. So when words failed him, I stepped forward and said, "It's all right, Gregar. It's all right. There was nothing you could have done. Come home now."

The Queen sat still and silent for a moment, collecting herself. Then she said, "Someone must tell her family. Now, before the HoloNet gets word."

No one wanted that job. But I was the one who took it. "Your Highness, it should be me. They know me. I should go."

I took Dormé with me. Typho had already contacted her, and she was still one of the Senator's handmaidens, though she was on Naboo at that time. She, too, knew the Naberrie family. I stood by Dormé's side with my hat in my hand and knocked on the door.

Padmé's mother answered. She looked concerned the moment she saw us, and asked what had happened. I asked if we could come in, and then she looked alarmed. "What's happened to Padmé?" That was when her husband, Padmé's father, appeared behind her and said, quietly, "Jobal, let them come inside."

I told them. I told them their daughter had been killed. It was the worst thing I've ever had to do. I never want to do something like that again. I'll never forget the look on her father's face or the way her mother screamed. Never, as long as I live.

The time after that is a blur. Dormé asked them if they'd known their daughter was pregnant. They hadn't, which made it worse. Ruwee, her father, called her sister, who came at once. The sister, Sola, made me think of when Keili died and I had to take care of everything, including her son, despite the way my heart was breaking. Sola had her husband take her daughters out of school. There was a grandmother in Keren, and I volunteered to have some of my men to go get her, since they could circumvent traffic.

After that, Dormé sat with the parents and sister, and I was left to my own devices. It was agreed that we would wait at the house and not return to the Palace until it was all right to make the official announcement, so I had nothing to do but wait until the nieces got there. I began to wander from room to room, trying not to look at all of the holos showing Padmé, smiling.

She was my first Queen. She was the first Queen I served as head of security, and not just a Queen but a teenage girl whose parents depended on me to protect their daughter. I spent my days with her. I grew to know her very well, even to love her. She was, like my nephew, a responsibility which came to me and which I embraced as my concern. She was always special to me. I continued to look out for her, and see to it that she was safe, even years after I no longer had to. When I learned about the attempts on her life, I worried about her, and I worried about her no less when I heard about her wedding. That was why I informed the Chancellor about it. While I served Queen Jamillia, while I served Queen Apailana, I still looked in, now and again, on Padmé Amidala. Until today, when I found out that all I had done hadn't been enough.

While wandering around upstairs in the Naberrie house I found her bedroom. I'd never seen it before, but it was unmistakably hers. Little things indicating her presence were everywhere. Everything was very neat, although there were signs that just below the surface the closet and the dresser were crammed with clothes. There were her datapads, her knick-knacks, her childhood toys, the things she had deemed valuable over the years of her life. That was where it truly occurred to me that she would never be here again, with the people she loved, touching the things she loved.

At the same time, standing there in her room, it washed over me suddenly that I hadn't known this woman. Not nearly as well as I thought I had. I'd known Senator Amidala, the leader, always busy, always pushing my patience to the limit in little ways. Professional. Dignified. I had known the girl Padmé Naberrie a little, long ago, but I had never known the woman she had become. The woman who loved her family and her friends, who had hopes and desires and cares that she never let on to me, her head of security. There were holos all around me of the places she'd been, people she'd known and loved. I recognized one, taken only a few years ago perhaps, of the old group of handmaidens. No, I had not known the woman I had served for so many years. I hadn't known her at all. It pained more than anything else to know that now I never would.

And it angered me. I hated the Jedi who had done this, who had murdered her and taken from me the chance to know her. Only Jedi could have been capable of this, I knew. Only Jedi could have had the skill to get past Typho and then defeat her. They murdered her and they murdered her baby. While they were supposed to be protecting the galaxy, the Senate, the Senators… her.

On the desk there was a holo of her and Skywalker. His arms were around her as they smiled at one another. Skywalker, the Jedi she should never have married. The Jedi she should never have trusted. What if he had betrayed her? It made me feel sick. I turned quickly and left that room.

And as I did so, I made the vow that I would avenge her murder. A vow that I would help to defeat the Jedi who had done this in any way I could. I couldn't protect her anymore, I had failed to protect her, but I could protect others from dying the same way. I knew that was all I could do for her, and knew beyond doubt that it was what she would have wanted me to do.

Downstairs, I made a point of finding Dormé and suggesting that she contact the handmaidens before they heard what had happened some other way.