"Change your grip. You are wielding a weapon, not a hammer."
Luke smirked. "I think a hammer is a weapon."
Vader twisted his lightsaber out of his hand and sent it flying.
"Hey!"
"Focus," his father ordered. "Your wit will not save you in a fight."
Luke grimaced. He couldn't argue with that. Whenever his parents talked so fiercely about protecting him, which was all they seemed to have on their minds in the week since the ball, he thought of the assassination attempt. Hiding like a mouse in the abandoned factory while angry amateurs stalked him, just because they hated him enough to kill him. How if Leia hadn't come at the last possible moment, he would have died.
"I'll focus," he promised, breath hitching. His father clearly noticed, but he did him the favour of not mentioning it.
"You are an incredibly quick learner," he said instead. "Go again. Perhaps you will beat me this time."
Luke muttered, "I doubt it."
Wasting breath on even so short a phrase was a mistake. Vader was already halfway across the duelling mats of the training room and then he was upon him. Luke brought up the blue training saber he'd been given in a clumsy parry and twisted out of the way. The more distance he had between them, the more time he had to think.
Vader didn't give him much. Luke's swing out of the way was just met with a pivot and he was on him in less than a second again, but this time Luke was more ready. He met his strikes—one, two, three—then struck out with a kick. Distract his opponent, his father had said. Don't be afraid to fight creatively, the way Leia had with that pole.
It would have worked if his father's leg wasn't made of durasteel.
Luke shouted, something in his foot crunching. Vader was hardly fazed.
"A few inches higher," he observed, advancing as Luke stumbled back, "and that would have been very clever."
Luke kicked again. That would have landed true, if his father was not expecting it, and hadn't slashed his lightsaber against Luke's ankle.
They were using training sabers, so at least he didn't lose a foot. But it still raised a welt; when Luke staggered back, his ankle twisted. He stumbled to the floor, his lightsaber clattering away from him.
A red saber hovered in his face. "This is the time to surrender," Vader offered.
Luke wiggled his fingers.
"I wasn't aware that was a gesture of surrender, young one."
Luke rolled his eyes. Flexed his fingers again. This time, it worked.
Vader took a startled step back as Luke threw himself back to his feet and backflipped over Vader, his training saber flying neatly into his hand. He lit it.
"Not yet," he said, and charged.
Vader tugged the training mats out from underneath Luke. They flew to either side of the room, and then back. Luke ducked as they tried to sandwich him and jumped at his father.
Their sabers collided with a deafening crash. Luke ducked under his next swing and caught his next flurry of blows, feeling like a nail being driven into the floor. Eventually he couldn't hold back the force of it and rolled to the side, returning blows. Vader staggered back. Luke stabbed forwards, slashed to the side, but was parried; he tried to jump, folding the Force into his muscles to feed his leap, to get higher than Vader—
In mid-air, Vader reached out a hand and caught him by the throat.
Luke choked. Vader shifted his grip until he was hanging on to Luke's training robes instead.
"Impressive," he said, then deactivated his saber and dug it into Luke chest. "But you are beaten."
"Doesn't mean I have to surrender," Luke coughed.
"As I said, you and your mother are alike." Luke glanced from Vader to Padmé, who was sitting on a chair in the corner, watching. He'd forgotten she was there. "Too fond of lost causes. You must back down at some point."
"Doesn't mean it has to be now."
Vader plucked Luke's lightsaber out of his hand. "Surrender is as important a skill as stubbornness is. Make sure you learn it."
"Did you ever?"
"No," Padmé said, grinning. "He did not." She stood from her seat and walked towards them, clapping vigorously. "Oh, Anakin, let him down."
Vader lowered Luke to the ground gently, not letting go until Luke's feet were safely on the floor. He looked ruefully around at the mess of mats thrown to every corner of the room. "I should not have done that," he said. "They are there for your safety. If you had fallen—"
"I didn't," Luke said.
"And you desperately wanted to look dramatic," Padmé teased, laying a hand on his arm. "But that fight was extraordinary." She turned to Luke, pride shining in her face. "You learn so quickly."
"I've had fencing training," he said. "It's part of the Naboo sports curriculum."
"It shows. You'll be able to defend yourself very soon."
Luke swallowed. "Am I likely to need it?" he asked quietly. "Do you know—"
"I know nothing concrete at the moment, I'm afraid," she said. "But I am certain it will come at one point. It happened to you when you were senator. It happened to Panaka. Once your identity is fully known…"
She took his hands and trailed off. He could feel the fear beating a tattoo into her heart.
"I'm right here, Mother." He kissed her cheek. "I'm fine. You don't have to worry about it right now."
She nodded. "I don't. But I do anyway. I do not wish to lose you."
"You won't," Luke repeated, but shared a look with his father. Vader had been just as intense as Padmé, training Luke hard and fast over the last week. He hadn't had a morning to himself. And he could feel the fear in both of them.
Their paranoia wasn't anything he change. He could only help by training for them. They had lost their son once—he couldn't blame them for the overwhelming fear that it would happen again.
"Shall we go again?" he asked, picking his lightsaber back out of his father's hand. "You were getting sloppy towards the end. I'll have you next time."
Vader's tension turned back to mirth. Luke liked that—he liked that he could make such a foreboding man smile. "Perhaps you will," he drawled.
The training mats flew back into place. Luke hopped on top of one to steer him like a speeder back into position as well. Then Padmé stepped back to watch, Vader lit his lightsaber again, and the battle began anew.
Leia took in a breath. The guards were changing shift at the entrances to the Imperial Palace, like she'd calculated; it was time for the afternoon shift to start. There was a thirty second period of grace.
She flew down to one of the entrances—one as close to the royal tower as she stared. This landing pad was right at the base of it, where the handmaidens and personal servants presumably flew in and out every day and was a mere servants' door. Certainly not something for official guests, which rather hurt her cover story, but she would try it anyway.
Biggs landed her speeder, and she climbed out without a backwards glance. She did appreciate the tense, "Good luck, Your Highness," he called after her before he took off again, however. She'd need it.
It was a gift from the Force they'd managed to get this far into the palace's airspace without being flagged down, but technically her senatorial clearance would fly with any officer monitoring the signals not particularly closely. She wasn't going to question it.
The door was unoccupied for now, though she doubted it was unmonitored by holocams. That didn't matter. She walked with the same intense confidence she always did, dressed in her simple Senate gown. This was not a special event; this was a casual visit. She was coming to see her friend.
She didn't get two steps inside before a stun blast shot at her. She ducked to the side with a theatrical gasp.
"Excuse me?" she demanded, glaring at her attacker. It was one of Amidala's handmaidens, a stony-faced woman with the same features that she—and Leia—held, a close enough resemblance to fool any casual eye. The woman just raised her blaster again and prepared to shoot. "I am a member of the Imperial Senate. On what grounds are you attacking me?"
The handmaiden rolled her eyes. Not one fond of politicking, then—or maybe just one who'd spent so long serving an autocrat that she didn't bother with people who defied her orders. "Trespassing. You have no invitation here. I must request that you leave."
The way she levelled her blaster again made it clear that it was not a request.
Leia unconsciously reached for her own blaster, comically small, buried in the pockets of her dress. She closed her hand around it as she stared at the handmaiden, eyes narrowed.
"I'm here to see my friend," she said. "Contact Governor Naberrie. He'll want to see me."
"He is unavailable."
"I insist. I haven't heard from him in a week—I'm very worried."
"In which case I sympathise with your plight, Princess Leia, but I assure you he is well. Perhaps you are simply not as close friends as you would like to believe."
"Oh, I doubt that." She took a step forward, testing her boundaries. The handmaiden fired.
Leia ducked to the side, out of the way again, and stepped back. Her heart hammered in her chest. That was too close. The Force coursed through her, priming her muscles to move faster than natural, and she hoped the handmaiden hadn't clocked that.
"You need to leave, Princess." A red guard was approaching down the corridor for the next shift. The handmaiden turned to them. "Sir, this woman is trespassing, and she—"
"Princess Leia!"
Leia jerked upright, frowning. The red guard had halted next to the handmaiden and was clutching their magnastaff tightly. But behind them, striding down the corridor at a brisk pace, was Pooja Naberrie.
"I'm glad you could make it," she gushed, with a broad smile the likes of which Leia had never seen grace her face. She glanced at the handmaiden and the guard. "Hollé? Is there an issue?"
"Yes, Poojé." Hollé turned away from Naberrie and glared at Leia. "This woman is trespassing."
"On the contrary. I invited her."
Leia kept her face still. Hollé turned to Pooja, slowly, looking down her nose. "You," she said, "invited Princess Leia into the palace?"
"She is a close friend of my cousin and foster brother, as we all know," she said. "He mentioned he would like to see her. I took the liberty of enabling that." She turned back to Leia. "I didn't realise you had accepted until I dropped by the flight control tower and recognised your speeder registration. That was fortunate—the officer on duty wanted to order an escort to remove you from the premises for some reason."
Leia blinked. "You know my speeder's registration?"
"Of course. It is the same one involved in the assassination attempt, correct?" Pooja looked from Hollé to Leia and back again. "I couldn't help but learn it, reading all the reports that that incident generated."
"Then I thank you for your help. I hadn't realised coming to visit a friend would involve such," she gestured at Hollé, "hostilities."
"These are tense times. But I am thrilled you are here. Come with me."
Leia stepped forwards and let her take her arm. Pooja turned to the handmaiden and asked coolly, "Unless there are any other issues you'd like to address, Hollé? I apologise for my tardiness in getting here. I didn't realise you would assume she was trespassing."
Hollé looked at Pooja with dark eyes. "Nothing else," she said. "I will let the Empress know the Princess is here, so she can be a good hostess." Leia suppressed a shiver.
Pooja clearly did, too. "That's not necessary. I can do that myself."
"I insist." That dark gaze moved to Leia.
"Very well. Come." She tugged on Leia's arm; Leia followed.
This corridor was utilitarian, but through a small, nondescript door it joined a far more lavish corridor, with a thick carpet and hangings along the walls. From there, Leia noticed several such servants' doors tucked away behind chairs, wall hangings, and furniture. She flicked her gaze to each one, sensing the people bustling behind them, but was careful to keep her Force sense contained to herself. She was in the same building as Darth Vader.
If he found out she was a Jedi, only one thing would save her, and Luke had kept that secret so far. He must have.
Hadn't he?
She cast a sideways glance at Pooja. She'd let go of her arm when they left Hollé's sight, but she still walked right next to Leia, her gaze trained straight ahead.
Why was she helping Leia?
"Here," she said at last, and led Leia into a turbolift. A few red guards exited, giving the two of them piercing looks, but Pooja held her chin high until they inclined their heads, and then she entered. She touched the button for one of the highest floors, leaning back against the mirrored wall of the lift.
Leia stared at her. Pooja raised an eyebrow. "If you have a question, Princess, ask it."
"I thought you were fond of politicking."
"You and Luke aren't. So ask it."
"You know exactly what I want to ask, Miss Naberrie."
"I do." Naberrie closed her eyes. "Call me Pooja, for Shiraya's sake. You might as well, after this."
"Are you going to answer the question?"
"Yes."
"Will you answer it now?"
The turbolift stopped. Another guard stepped in, nodding to Pooja and studying Leia. They rode together for a few tense minutes before they reached the floor they selected, and they left.
"Luke misses you," Pooja said finally. "He hasn't been himself in a while, and you made him happy at the ball last week. That's why I wanted to let you through."
"This is for Luke's good?"
"I love my brother."
Leia raised her own eyebrow. "I've heard that he's your cousin."
"He's my brother first."
Leia had to respect that.
The turbolift stopped, and the doors opened. They both stepped out. This level was sickeningly grand, even for a princess. But they were less ostentatious on Alderaan than Naboo. Portraits and decorations lined every hall. They were arranged well; she couldn't accuse the designer of being tasteless, but her own taste told her it was too much.
Pooja strode down the corridor, to where it widened into a landing. The first door on the left was open, sunlight streaming out.
Leia stepped in after her. This living room was better, she thought. A wall of transparisteel, looking out over the Coruscanti skyline, lined the opposite side of the room, but the rest of it was carpeted with a nice aquamarine pattern reminiscent of waves. Sofas and comfortable armchairs were arranged around a central table, along with a holoprojector for entertainment, and even a fireplace, though that surely was too quaint to be used too often. Luke was sitting in one of the chairs, reading something on his datapad, but he glanced up to smile at Pooja—and stare at Leia.
His mouth dropped open, the corners curving up, as he gaped at them both, stepping forwards to hug Leia. "I thought I sensed you," he said. "But I didn't think…"
They hugged tightly. Leia pressed her nose into his shoulder. He smelled of something distinct that hadn't been there before—some sort of blossom.
He broke off with a laugh. "I'm so happy to see you."
"I have been trying for days," she said with a laugh. "You never replied to me."
"I wish I could have. I never read any of these messages." She sensed how careful he was being with his words—so he had received the messages she sent to the comlink she'd slipped him. But he hadn't been able to action any of them, somehow. Perhaps he wasn't allowed to meet with people, or invite outsiders into the palace, or he'd run into any number of difficulties.
"No need to apologise. I'm here now. Your sister let me in." She stressed the title, and Luke smiled, looking at Pooja with enough gratitude that she shifted awkwardly.
"Thank you," he said. "I missed Leia, that was— thank you."
"What are you doing here?"
Leia stiffened at the Empress's shrill tones. She backed away from Luke, turning to face her. She looked as much like a peacock as always, her teal gown fluffed with golden lace at every conceivable hem, edge, or juncture, and trailing behind her on the floor. In particular, she looked like a furious peacock.
"I was invited," she replied.
"I am the Empress. I certainly did not invite you." Her gaze flicked to Pooja. "Hollé informed me she tried to turn you away as we must all trespassers."
"You didn't invite me, but your son did. I am his guest."
Luke nodded vigorously. Amidala, unfazed by the fact that Leia had stated rumour as fact and been right, watched him. "Luke, is this true? I told you—we cannot allow visitors at this time, especially in these apartments, due to the security risk—"
"I am training. I can handle a security risk, Mother."
A knot in Leia's stomach. He was training, then.
"You are not fully capable yet. And a security risk remains a risk under every circumstance. I'm afraid Princess Leia does not pass all the necessary background checks needed for a visitor to the royal quarters of the palace."
Luke shrugged. "If that's the issue, we can move to a different area of the palace."
"Luke, you know that's not the issue." Amidala's voice softened as she wheedled. "This is a matter of your safety. I understand she is your friend, but—"
"She attended your ball and wasn't turned away."
"A happy oversight, since it allowed you joy, but one that was an oversight, nonetheless. Need I remind you the risk of assassination?"
"Leia is not an assassin."
"Then why does she have a pistol in her pocket?"
Leia brought it out and tossed it aside. "Self-defence on the way in, Your Majesty," she said smoothly. "The last attempt on Luke's life that I am aware of—" Her voice dripped sarcasm. "—occurred in the airlanes of Coruscant. One can never be too prepared."
Luke nodded. Amidala pursed her lips, glaring.
"Quite right," she said. "But I will have to speak to the officers who let you past. You did not have clearance."
"I overrode that, Your Majesty. The officer was following my orders." Pooja spoke up, for the first time this whole conversation. Her gaze was on the carpet; her tone was deferential. "I allowed Princess Leia in and can vote for her trustworthiness. She is Luke's friend—I trust Luke's judgement."
Luke gave her another grateful look; Pooja didn't seem strong enough to meet it head on.
"Yes," Padmé said, "Hollé informed me of that, as well. May I speak with you, Pooja?" She gave Leia a cutting glance. "I assume these two would like some time alone to catch up."
"That would be wonderful, Your Majesty," Leia said.
"Thank you, Mother," Luke said genuinely. "I appreciate it."
Amidala's face gentled; she gave him—only him—a smile. Her glare returned when she pointed to the door. Pooja got the message.
Leia didn't say anything. But she watched Pooja—her cousin, she thought, and the thought was not horrible—step outside. When their gazes met before the door shut, she thought she understood what Pooja could not say.
Pooja's insides had turned to jelly. She had never been summoned to Padmé's office like this. She had never had cause. Her work was flawless, her loyalty unquestionable, her devotion utter.
They sat down on either side of the desk. Padmé's glare made her wither.
She steepled her fingers. "Explain yourself."
Pooja swallowed. "Luke was unhappy."
"I disagree."
"I know, my lady, but— did you see him, at the ball last week? I hadn't noticed before then. He is stifled in the palace. If he can meet more people, have more interaction—"
"We discussed this last week, Pooja. This isn't for much longer. I just need to be sure."
"Of what? That he's so starved for human interaction that he'll do what you say just because you're his only experience of it? That isn't proof of anything, my lady. I believe Luke is loyal. But there is no way to test that without letting him interact with his former allies—his friends."
"The fact that they are still his friends proves that he is not the prince we need," Padmé insisted. "The longer he goes without contact with her, the better."
"That's not Luke. Luke has always been able to love people he disagreed with. Just because he still loves Princess Leia doesn't mean he doesn't believe in the Empire." Pooja clenched her jaw. "This will prove it."
"I understand where you are coming from." Padmé raised her eyes to the ceiling as she conceded that, a faint sigh lifting the bodice of her dress. "But you are wrong."
Pooja sat meekly and waited for the rest.
"I do not want to starve Luke of interaction, as you said. But his former friends will poison the process in how we intend to consolidate his loyalty to the Empire. He is the perfect heir as it is, right now, but Princess Leia is a threat to that." Padmé brought her fist down on the table with a thump; Pooja started. "I have told you this. She could take Luke from us again, just as surely as assassins, or Rebels, or an unmuzzled Sabé."
"Fear of assassins I understand, my lady," Pooja said softly. "But why can you not trust Luke? He loves us. He also loves Princess Leia. You don't need to suspect him just because of that."
Padmé shook her head. "I envy you your trusting nature, Pooja." It had the ring of something Pooja had said to Luke, too many times for her to count.
"And I pity you your paranoid one." That was something Luke had said to her, before, as well. Padmé stiffened. "I don't mean any disrespect, Aunt Padmé—"
"And yet you achieve it."
"—but Luke is family. You don't need to manipulate or isolate him to make him love you."
Padmé sucked in a breath between her teeth. Pooja understood. She didn't think she'd put it into words like that before.
"You know why I can't trust him, Pooja," Padmé said. "Or rather, you did. What changed?"
"I don't understand."
"You know how politics works. It is not built on trust. I taught you that. It's why you agreed to spy on Luke on Naboo, because otherwise he would involve himself with the Rebels. And even then, he did! Our fears were warranted."
"I didn't spy on him," Pooja defended. "I wanted to keep an eye on him. I was—"
"Worried," Padmé finished. "I was too. I am too. This is not paranoia. This is a real threat."
"But you don't need to isolate him. Surely he can meet his friends, chaperoned? Or with guards? The calibre of your guards is beyond compare, and I know they would all die for him as readily as they would for you."
"That is still not the point, Pooja. Isolate is a crude word, but it works for this, so I will use it: if we do not isolate Luke ourselves, he may never realise how isolated he already is. Or rather, how isolated he should be, if he wishes to avoid manipulation. You helped with this before. When we all discovered the truth, you were the one who reminded him that your family home on Naboo would reject him if they knew of his sympathies for us, weren't you? You knew that they would either reject him or use him, and by telling him that—telling him the truth, even in a way that serves our ends—you saved him pain from either eventuality."
Pooja nodded, but she felt sick. She hadn't thought about her behaviour in that way. She had never meant to manipulate her brother.
Padmé let her hands fall to the table. Reached one hand across to take Pooja's and run her thumb along her knuckles.
"It's difficult, I know," she said. "But it's necessary. And I know you'll reconcile that soon—you've always been an adept student. You learn even more quickly than your cousin does with that lightsaber." She smiled. "I know you likely wouldn't have wanted it. But you were such a good protégé, that before Luke came along, I considered naming you my heir. I wouldn't need one for a long time, hopefully, but I had altered my teachings to you to try to prepare you for it, just in case."
Pooja's free hand went to her mouth. "What?" she asked through her fingers.
"I know you don't always feel integrated into the handmaidens—you're so much younger than the others—but that was partly by design on my part. Originally, I intended that you would command them one day. You may still, in Luke's service. I'm proud of how much you've learned."
Her head was spinning, like the galaxy did around its black hole heart. "That is an honour, my lady," she said shakily. "Are you… teaching Luke the same… skills?"
"Of course. He hasn't grasped much of it yet, no matter how many politicians I introduce him to." Padmé grimaced. "Lying is not his strength. You were right when you originally expressed doubts about his merits as a politician. But his fortitude and passion more than make up for it. I'm confident that soon, he will learn."
"That's why you haven't declared him as prince," Pooja realised. "He did well at the ball, but you need to consolidate him as your protégé."
"So far he's more interested in being Vader's." Padmé laughed. "I can't regret that. He is his father's son."
He must be, Pooja thought. He certainly wasn't his mother's.
"But he must learn soon. The Imperial prince will need a wide range of skills to survive the mess of politics knotted around him."
"Is he not enough already?" Pooja asked. "His honesty is a core part of Luke."
"Unfortunately, that will have to change. I love him for it." And the painful thing was, Padmé clearly wasn't lying. The soft smile that illuminated her face was genuine. She just didn't realise the horror of what she was proposing—of twisting the person she loved into someone he was not.
Of twisting him, just as she had Pooja, into her.
"Is that what Palpatine taught you?" Pooja asked.
Padmé narrowed her eyes. "Palpatine was a manipulative tyrant." Pooja nodded, and Padmé dropped it. "You do understand the necessity of this?"
"I understand completely." She remembered that instinct—remembered, when Luke had first come to Coruscant, pulling him aside day after day to warn him. Trying to squash him into the mould of an Imperial senator. Trying to protect him from being himself.
But she remembered how Luke had asked her to trust him. He wasn't a child, no matter how much Padmé wished she had found him when he was. And he knew who he wanted to be better than Pooja did.
She'd tolerated that, at the time. Now she understood it. Now, she might even agree.
"I'm glad." Padmé checked the chrono she had on her desk. "I'll give them another ten minutes to chat. I need to have a harsh word with Princess Leia. In the meantime, tell me about what you've done today?"
Pooja did. She kept her summaries long and winding, hoping to buy Luke extra time with his friend, but Padmé's punctuality couldn't be defeated. She held a hand up before Pooja could launch into her fifth diatribe about the laundrette.
"I'll need to go," she said, standing. "Pooja, I trust nothing like this will happen again?"
She shook her head. "Never, my lady." She shared Padmé's smile and waited patiently in the office for her to leave.
The door slid shut behind her.
Pooja waited several long minutes, until she heard the distant sound of shouting. Padmé and Princess Leia, no doubt. That was when she moved.
She ripped open the drawers to the desk. Secret drawers, that no one else knew about. Every nook and cranny in the office she could find.
She knew what she needed to do.
"I'm surprised at your sister," Leia said.
"I am too," Luke admitted, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa. "Surprised, but grateful."
"That goes without saying." She sat down behind him, surprised at how comfortable the cushion was. "How are you? Really. We couldn't speak much in one dance."
"I think, if my mother has anything to say about it, we can't speak much now."
"Then let's speak as much now as we can," Leia said hurriedly. "Firstly: your mother."
Luke winced. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was processing it. It was only on Naboo that I found out."
"I know. I heard. And it was your secret to keep."
"Not all of it was."
The fact that he still didn't commit to words the thing she'd been trying to forget made her want to hug him again. "I'm glad," she emphasised, "you didn't tell me. You weren't ready. And I wasn't, either. I know you had good intentions."
"You think so?"
"How are you?" she repeated. "You look pale."
"I haven't left the building in two months," he admitted. "But I do frequent the gardens often."
"Why? Are you on house arrest?" She cast a scathing look at the door. "What right does she have to keep you locked up?"
Luke put a hand on her before she could stand up in her anger; the feeling of silk instead of skin startled her out of her rage. For the first time, she noticed Luke's black gloves, and the stiff, ornately decorated blazer that stood on him like he was a clothes hanger. His haircut had been one thing. His outfits were another.
"She doesn't keep me locked up," Luke assured her. "This is a safety measure. I'm still able to move about the palace, but until we're sure of the situation in terms of my security, it's best not to take chances."
"When will you be sure?" Leia asked. "When you're prince? Or in twenty years, when you've forgotten who you used to be?"
Luke winced. "The first option," he said decisively. "There have been attempts on my life—you saved me from one."
"That doesn't mean that she's not using the threat to your life for her own gain. Palpatine used the Clone Wars as an excuse to consolidate control over the galaxy." She leaned in. "You're a revolutionary in the Empress's custody, Luke. I'm concerned."
"I'm not doubting that," he said. "But she is genuinely paranoid. I can feel it." He lowered his voice as well. "And I'm not exactly a revolutionary anymore, am I?"
"You are if you choose to be."
"Tell that to the Millaflower Movement. I've been cut off from contact with them." His throat twitched as he swallowed. "I couldn't hide it from Mother and Pooja. Had to explain that I had a brief involvement with them."
"Do they know about—"
"No. Not you."
She breathed. "Don't think I underestimate how much you're protecting me, Luke. Thank you."
"Of course." He frowned. "But I mean what I said. I doubt after what I've done on Naboo they'll still welcome me at all."
"I've been following that," she admitted. "Walk me through it. It did look very, very Imperial, but I trust you." Even if he seemed as addled by the isolation and constant love-bombing from Amidala as she'd feared, the fact that he was still protecting her gave her hope.
"I'm trying to redistribute the troops to minimise violence," he said. "But I can't redistribute them except for Imperial gain. I don't have the authority to abolish the occupation altogether—only Mother can do that, and I have to convince her that it's not necessary before that will happen. So I've been trying to make it seem like Naboo is perfectly peaceful. Not a threat, should they be removed."
"Has it worked?"
"According to my sources, yes," Luke said. "But I don't know how broad a picture that is. With the Millaflower Movement branded as terrorists with Panaka's death, I doubt they're having people flock to them, but I need to make sure they're not seen as a threat at all if I'm to convince her to lay off."
A stone fell into Leia's gut. "And how are you going to do that?"
"If Seralina agrees—which I think she will, I'm due to talk to her tomorrow—I'll offer any of their members who wish to defect total amnesty."
Her bad feeling had been right. "That would cripple them."
"That's the point." He smiled weakly. She could sense his self-loathing a mile away. "But at least those who got out would be able to keep fighting. Once they have pardons, I can get their records destroyed somehow, so they're not being watched constantly."
"You've really thought about this. You…" She shook her head. "You're serving the Empire pretty thoroughly, aren't you?"
"I am." He looked like he was about to cry. "I think it's the only way to prevent more war on Naboo. And I don't want more blood in the streets."
Her first instinct was towards bitterness, an instinct to call him a coward. But that was wrong. Alderaan had a Core world privilege wherein they couldn't really be invaded. Nor was Amidala really interested in her. Her ineffectualness was the reason she got away with so much.
As much as she had always resented the senators who kowtowed to Imperial rule to protect themselves, she had to understand.
And Luke had a plan. It was a useless plan—Amidala would never let go of Naboo now that she had it—but there wasn't anything else he could do.
It shouldn't matter. He'd fallen for the trap Amidala had set him and was working for the Empire in a high-end capacity. And he was doing well at it. His intentions shouldn't matter—his actions were still causing harm.
She let herself think they mattered anyway. He was already struggling with his choice; harshness from her could do untold damage. She let herself use them as hope.
"You're doing the best you can," she said softly, putting her arm around him. His tears did fall, then, and he leaned his head on her shoulder. It caused a twinge of guilt in her, and she feared that he might sense it, but she dismissed it. She chose to be compassionate, instead of cruel. "Luke, don't underestimate that. You are saving lives. You might be saving Naboo."
"I might," he said dully.
"I haven't lost hope. Don't you lose it too." She rolled her eyes. "Besides. Your replacement Senator of Naboo is a bore."
Luke snorted through his tears. "Is he? I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him yet. He was never at any of my meetings with Seralina."
"He's insufferable! If he were any more spineless he'd be an earthworm."
"I'll pass your recommendation onto Queen Seralina. Perhaps she'll send you someone more entertaining."
She poked him in the side. "Don't mock me."
"I wouldn't dare."
"Good. I—"
A sharply cleared throat.
Leia looked up and smiled politely at Amidala lurking in the doorway. She tightened her arm around Luke's shoulders; Amidala saw it and pursed her lips.
"Luke?" she asked. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." He smiled at Leia.
Amidala's ire surged. "Nonetheless, I will have to ask you to leave, Princess."
"She's fine here," Luke insisted.
Padmé went so far as to glare at him. "I will not be moved on this, Luke."
Luke… capitulated. It turned Leia's stomach, but he nodded at her in solidarity.
"Time's up," she murmured lightly, kissing Luke on the cheek and standing. "Thank you for allowing me to stay, Your Majesty."
"The honour was all yours."
"I'm aware."
Amidala narrowed her eyes at her.
"I'll see you off," she said tightly.
Leia let her lead her into the hall. Amidala pointedly shut the door behind them—locking it, in fact. Leia's eyebrows climbed but she said nothing.
"Did you wish to speak with me, Your Majesty?" she mocked.
But Amidala was not in the mood for games. "I warned you on Naboo to stay away from my nephew, Princess," she said. "I am now ordering you to stay away from my son."
"Why?" Leia pressed with a harsh laugh. "I'm not going to turn him against you. You might see enemies everywhere, but not everyone is as interested in manipulating other people as you are."
"No," Padmé drawled, "only most politicians. And you. I have seen how you dragged Luke into your Rebel entanglements in the Senate. You will not do it now."
"'Dragged'? Don't insult him like that."
"I don't insult him. I protect him."
"You're paranoid," Leia said. "You're so dedicated to seeing enemies everywhere that you'll see one in your own son."
"And you are not?" Padmé responded coolly. "That is the way of politics. I watched you enter, bright-eyed and trusting, and how quick a study you were. You hardened your mind within weeks, you adapted to the world around you. It wasn't just your skills that made me want to teach you, Princess"—she leaned in, smiling—"it was how much you reminded me of myself."
Leia froze. She stared into Amidala's—her mother's—eyes and distantly felt her heart beat like a piston.
"I," she snarled, "am nothing like you."
Amidala backed away again, almost dismissively. "Not in the useful ways, no."
"You're a monster. A tyrant." She waved a hand, aware that her voice was soaring. "I fight for what's right."
"You fight for the lofty ideals your parents indoctrinated you into, with no thought for how unrealistic they are."
"It's better than fighting for an idealised image of a galaxy that you concocted yourself, in the delusion that it will actually work."
"My image has worked, Princess," Amidala said coolly. "For twenty years."
"The Republic stood for a thousand."
"And yet it fell." She shook her head and turned away. "Most impressive."
Amidala walked down the corridor, towards the turbolift. Leia didn't follow. Her hands were balled into fists at her side, shaking. She didn't know where to put the anger in her chest. When Master Obi-Wan's voice sounded in her head, it just made her anger rise again.
"I will fight you," Leia promised. "You're such an evil person and you don't even acknowledge it. But do you acknowledge this? I will fight you with every breath in my body. Anything you try to do to bend the galaxy to your will, more and more, I will resist."
"I know. You always do. You've dedicated yourself to that and you brought Luke into the folds of that quest the moment you made friends. It's been wonderful."
"Wonderful?"
"Of course." She walked back towards Leia, step by step. The train of her dress dragged, making her move like something unnatural, inexorable. "Having an opponent like you has been a boon to the legitimacy of the Empire. Every time you raised an argument, I got to demonstrate why you were wrong. Every time you contested a law and got it changed, not enough to make it toothless, but enough to be pacifying to any senators with doubts, you made my Empire acceptable to those on the fence."
She paused, right in front of Leia. Her gaze bored down into her.
"Luke used to talk about Naboo's commitment to debate and discourse—open dialogues about politics." Her used to was intentionally mocking, Leia knew. "As long as you were there, arguing, fighting, you gave the Empire the appearance of that. You are the reason so many people chose to come to the Senate, into my influence, instead of opposing the Empire on the battlefield."
Leia shook her head. "The fact that you think that is just more evidence of your delusion. You do not control the entire Senate. You do not control the entire galaxy. The fact that it is revolting against you is evidence of that!"
"I don't need to," Amidala said. "Not when enough people are pacified until they no longer care. Why was it that none of your proposals ever passed? Only a few loyal Imperials bothered challenging you, and largely to make a statement of their own loyalty. Everybody else was smart enough to write it off as a foolish girl's attempt to rock the boat, despite the sea monsters circling beneath."
"People in politics care," Leia protested. "You silence them!"
"I don't need to silence many. The Core and the Mid Rim are satisfied. Why do you think the Outer Rim Project was so successful? None of you cared that it was happening. I just needed to grant it a veneer of respectability, and it went unquestioned until you brought it up all those months ago."
Leia shook her head. She felt like her thoughts were bleeding out through a hole in her mind, like Amidala had driven knife through the centre of her being, and she had to patch it up before she bled into nothing. "That's not true."
"What did you think of Luke's plans on Naboo? They're effective, aren't they?"
"I dislike how they favour Imperial rule, but they save lives."
"Be proud of what you've done, Princess Leia." Amidala had the nerve to take Leia's chin and lift it. Leia jerked away, glaring. "You did the same. In making Imperial rule kinder and fairer, despite how little change you actually affected, you saved lives. You averted rebellions." Her hand dropped. "I shouldn't have given up on you. There is hope for you yet."
Leia stepped back. "Don't touch me." She shook her head. "I'm not like you. I'm not like—" She bit her tongue.
"Luke?" Amidala finished, her tone hard. "No. You are not." The turbolift at the end of the corridor opened, admitting two red guards. Amidala gestured to them. "It's time for you to leave."
Leia didn't have much choice. They seized her shoulders and pulled her away. Amidala watched her, their gazes clashing between the turbolift doors. Then the lift was moving and the Empress—and her son—were far behind.
Padmé sighed, but her grin was sharp. It was satisfying to resume that battle, the manipulation of her enemies that she thrived on. Whether she truly wanted Princess Leia to change her mind and serve the Empire one day, or if she just liked driving her into confusion and self-hatred, she didn't know. Either way, it was invigorating.
Palpatine must have enjoyed sparring with her in the same way. She brushed the thought aside.
She couldn't get distracted. Princess Leia would be around for a long time into the future; she could decide then. For now, she was a distraction and a danger.
Luke was banging on the door.
Padmé unlocked it, thankful he didn't have the finesse with the Force to unlock it himself yet. When it hissed open he stormed out. "Where's Leia?"
"The Princess has finally left."
"I heard shouting."
"We had words before she left."
"You locked me in my living room."
Padmé winced, reaching for his hands. "I didn't want you to have to hear it."
He didn't take her hands. Padmé dropped them after a moment, wary.
"Why are you keeping me from seeing my friends?" he demanded.
"I told you." She was slightly taken aback by his brazenness, but there was no wondering where this had sprung from. "It's a security risk."
"Allowing comm messages is a security risk?"
"I haven't blocked any comm messages, Luke," she said. The communications department had.
He clearly didn't sense her deception. To be fair to him, she had a great deal of experience deceiving Force users. "I want to leave the palace. Having Leia here reminded me how long it's been."
"Soon, darling."
"Mother—"
She fixed him with a look. Rebellious mood or not, it worked. He huffed and stormed away.
She sagged against the wall as she watched him go.
Princess Leia would not be allowed near him again, she vowed. Especially if this was the result.
Sabé rolled over on her cot, blinking bleary eyes, when her comlink lit up with an incoming call. She shouldn't be surprised that Padmé would manage to comm her during the one period she'd found to sleep in the last three days. Not even travelling through hyperspace could free her from it.
She reached for the comm, smoothing down her hair unconsciously, and answered it.
It was not Padmé in the holo.
Sabé frowned. "Pooja?"
"This is the one that contacts you!"
"Evidently. Why are you contacting me? My—" She corrected herself. "Our lady—"
"It's about her." The girl swallowed, glancing around. "And Luke."
Sabé sat up immediately. "Tell me."
"You need to get him out."
There was a ringing in her head. "Excuse me?"
"Aunt Padmé, she—" To Sabé's dismay, Pooja put a hand to her mouth and began to cry. At least she had the capacity to keep talking through her tears. "She wants to make him into something he's not. You need to get him out of here before she succeeds."
"I can't do that. I am a loyal servant of Her Majesty—I should report this to her—"
"Don't lie to me," Pooja snapped. "I'm not stupid. I've just made stupid decisions." She shook her head. "Luke is different. He's fading. And he's unhappy. He needs you, Sabé."
Blast the girl. Her words cut Sabé to her core.
"Can I presume you'll be helping, then?" Sabé challenged. "You will genuinely betray the Empire? Or is this a trap laid by your aunt?"
"You are my aunt as well. You seem to have forgotten, but I haven't. And Luke is my brother."
"Cousin," Sabé corrected.
"He's my brother." She lifted her chin. "Are you going to help him or not?"
Sabé hung up.
Stared at the comlink—surprised that she'd done that, surprised at what she'd so rapidly decided she was about to do.
Then she dropped the comlink back into the sheets on the bed, rolled to her feet, and headed for the cockpit.