Hanné lifts velvet folds over my head and sweeps them artfully across each shoulder. My garments have become more layered in recent months, leaning toward heavier, more disguising fabrics. My heart twists with both joy and fear each time I run my hands over my swelling belly. I am no longer able to keep this secret from my handmaidens, but each of them is in my service because they are entirely trustworthy. They work tirelessly to ensure the information never makes its way beyond this team.
Guiltily, I am grateful the war has kept Anakin away for so long. It is easier to maintain this lie of omission when he is fighting battle droids on the other side of the galaxy. I think Obi-Wan is beginning to suspect us, and I too often use this reason to limit the length and frequency of our hologram calls. Once, I craved Anakin's company, took every opportunity that presented itself to hear his voice or glimpse his face. Now danger accompanies every thought of him.
"Is this comfortable, Milady?" Hanné asks, bringing me back to the present.
I shift my limbs inside the gown and find I have enough movement. "Yes, thank you Hanné."
Irdé enters my chambers bearing my data pad. "Schematics are updated and formatting corrected, Milady."
"Thanks, Irdé. A glitching data pad does not make for a very effective Senator. Who knew drafting legislation took so much software?"
She gives me a sly grin; I have long since made peace with the fact that technology is not my area of expertise.
"I couldn't find an agenda for today's meeting, Milady, so I cannot brief you on it," Irdé says.
It is my turn for a sly smile. "That is because I was not sent one. Bail is keeping this meeting hushed up."
Hanné lightly powders my face as Esmé twists my hair up into elaborate braids. Dressed and ready, I bid them farewell as Dormé accompanies me from my chambers. I declined an offer of escort from my head of security the night before, as this is the kind of meeting about which I feel I should be discreet. Dormé is bodyguard as well as maidservant.
We take a clone-patrolled shuttle toward the Alderaanian quadrant, where we wind through glistening corridors until we are met by Bail himself, accompanied only by one helmeted guard.
"Padmé!" Senator Bail Organa greets me gleefully.
"That's Senator Amidala to you," I retort, grinning. Many Senators have remained distant colleagues during my time on Coruscant, but Bail and I have been steadfast allies in the work of peace, and he has become a true friend. We have weathered too many political trenches together not to embrace each other now. "How are you?" I ask.
"Well, well. As well as anyone can be while war ravages our galaxy."
There is more to that story and we both know it, but he seems pre-occupied.
"And yourself, Senator Amidala? Are you well?"
"Enough," I concede, omitting any mention of the morning sickness I now contend with most days. "I am highly curious about this mysterious meeting."
He winks at me. "That is best discussed indoors, Milady."
Dormé stations herself outside the door as Bail leads me into the meeting room, where Senators Mon Mothma, Fang Zar, Terr Taneel, and Giddean Danu are already seated.
"Welcome, friends. Trusted colleagues," Bail addresses us, meeting each of our eyes in turn. "Senator Mothma and I have gathered you all here because we believe that we share some similar concerns about the impact this war is having on the Republic, and particularly the Senate."
"Each of you is long-standing ally," says Mon. "Senator Amidala, you led the opposition to the creation of the Grand Army. Senator Danu, you drafted amendments to limit the Chancellor's emergency powers. Each of you are aware that this is not politics as usual, and that more power is being given to our Chancellor than is strictly necessary during wartime."
Several of the gathered Senators nod, with varying degrees of hesitation. We all know we are entering dangerous territory.
Bail continues, "The Chancellor has appointed Governors to oversee all star systems in the Republic."
"When did this happen?" asks Fang Zar.
"The decree was posted this morning," Bail tells us.
"Do you think he will dismantle the Senate?" I ask, afraid of the answer.
"Why bother?" Mon replies. "As a practical matter, the Senate no longer exists."
My stomach drops. Regional Governors appointed directly by the Chancellor. Not elected by the people to represent them, but stationed to oppress them. This is not democracy.
Echoing my thoughts, Bail says, "We can't let a thousand years of democracy disappear without a fight."
We glance at each other nervously, these Senators deeply committed to the power of the people, a little worried at the implications of what was just said. Breathe, Padmé.
"What are you suggesting?" Ter Taneel asks.
"I apologize. I didn't mean to sound like a Separatist."
"We are not Separatists trying to leave the Republic," Mon clarifies. "We are loyalists, trying to preserve democracy in the Republic. Palpatine has become a dictator and we have helped him to do it."
And so, it has come to this. Palpatine, once Senator for Naboo, one of my oldest advisors, has become someone I do not recognise. Cold, calculating and power-hungry.
"We can't sit around debating any longer. We have decided to do what we can to stop it," says Bail. "Senator Mon Mothma and I are putting together an organization…"
"Say no more, Senator Organa," I interrupt. "I understand. At this point, it's better to leave some things unsaid."
"Yes," Mon agrees. "We must not discuss this with anyone, without everyone in this group agreeing."
Boy, am I becoming an expert in the unsaid.
Note: Some of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from a deleted scene in the script for Revenge of the Sith.