CHAPTER FOUR: FAILURE TO ABIDE

Alma stood guard at Padmé's door, watching diplomats and janitors alike pass through the halls. She kept a straight face, though internally she was still contemplating Anakin's words. Surely Anakin couldn't have known Samwin very well. So why then did he laugh as if they were good friends?

She shook her head gently, clearing the thoughts from her head. She had other things to attend to. Two senators, a queen, and three handmaidens were all inside that room. She had to protect it.

She nodded to the Pantoran senator who entered. She was a nice girl.

It was the first day of the festival. The event was celebrated with live music and a parade. Alma made a note to ask Anakin if he'd seen the Marching band that had gawked at them the day before.

Anakin had gone with the group as their escort, and Alma stayed behind to guard the diplomats who stayed behind to write speeches or whatever diplomats did. She had a halfway decent conversation with the Queen, a kind-hearted woman from Alderaan. All in all, Alma's view of politicians was changing.

The group who went out to the festivities didn't arrive back until very late. The others had all retired, and Alma had been watching an empty hall for several hours. She had been passing time by meditating, but she stood up as Padmé approached the door.

Alma couldn't help but notice the Senator's pale face. "Are you alright?" she asked gently.

Padmé nodded and entered, wobbling slightly. She was holding her stomach. A brief thought of alcohol crossed Alma's mind, but she shook it off. The Senator was respectable, and surely wouldn't drink herself into a stupor. The only other options were an illness, or poisoning.

Alma entered the room, where Padmé had made it to the couch. She had taken off the heavier parts of her robes, and was now wearing the lighter dress. Her eyes were half closed, and she was slumped against the back of the 's concern grew. "Senator?" she asked.

Padmé sat up, clearly startled. Alma ignored this. "You aren't well. What did you have tonight? Where did you go?"

"No, … I'm fine." Padmé muttered, obviously in some pain.

"Senator, I need to make sure you haven't been poisoned." Alma stressed. She held a hand to Padmé's forehead, feeling nothing unusual.

It was then that realization hit Alma. In the way the dress fell, a swollen belly was just barely visible. Alma fell silent, and withdrew her hand from Padmé's forehead. She reached out with the force. There was Padmé's force signature. But there- very faint, so you could only see it if you were looking, was another light.

"Senator," she breathed. "You're pregnant."

Padmé's eyes shot open wide. She grabbed Alma's wrist. "Please, you can't tell anyone."

"I don't understand, isn't this a good thing for you?" Alma asked, wrist still in Padmé's vice-like grip.

"Knight Twill, politics are complicated." She stammered. Her eyes were full of desperation.

Alma finally nodded. "I won't tell." Padmé let go of her wrist. "Why don't you try to clean yourself up, and I'll get you something to settle your stomach."

Alma heated some water and went about making the mixture. Blissroot was farmed all across the galaxy, and it made a good tea. She added a little sweetener for taste, then poured it into a cup for Padmé.

She was cleaning up the chopped blissroot when Padmé reappeared. She seemed better. She had removed her makeup and wore a loose dress that Alma assumed were her nightclothes. Alma handed her the cup.

"Is this some ancient Jedi elixir?" Padmé joked.

Alma smiled. "It's just Blissroot. I have four younger brothers, after all. I helped my mother when she was pregnant with the oldest of them, Sped."

Padmé sipped it gratefully, listening to Alma's tangent about her brother. She hadn't been present for the other three at all, so she held on to the memories she had of little Sped.

Having completely cleaned up now, Alma washed her hands of the Blissroot's red juice. "I hope you feel better, Senator. Goodnight."

"Wait, Knight Twill." Alma paused. Padmé was clutching the cup. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Senator." Alma wasn't used to being thanked. It was her responsibility as a Jedi to help.

"Please, Padmé is fine."

"Then, you can call me Alma."

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update. I've been sick. :/ Thank you again for all the follows and favorites. This is going to be a long story, so stick with me. Reviews fuel me, I'd appreciate some!

-MTFBWY

MontyBeth