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Chapter 5 – Family & Fugitives
The tranquility of Aldera Palace's gardens was sublime, soothing all anxious spirits that passed within their borders. Crystal fountains sprinkled onto laughing children as their mother watched from a shaded bench, sketchbook in hand as she tried to capture the essence of the serenity around them. She'd never considered herself above an amateur artist, yet in this place, her talent seemed to flourish.
Then again, she might just be viewing her work through glasses as rosy as her soul. That was fine. Padmé wasn't aiming for gallery-worthy submissions, just something that spoke to her in this rare, perfect moment.
"Mom, did you see that huge butterfly land on me?"
"Come stand in the fountain, mom!"
"We don't have birds like that on Naboo!"
"Race you to that rosebush!"
"Quit splashing me!"
"You splashed me first!"
"Watcha drawing, mom?"
Padmé glanced up with a smile, their joy infectious and their squeals music to her ears. It had finally happened: Luke and Leia's cheer had rubbed off on her, transforming her entire outlook. This visit was whatever she chose to make of it. The choice was hers alone to view it as restorative rather than nerve-wracking.
She was proud. Brightening her attitude had required no small effort, but she'd done it – for the twins as much as herself. They deserved a mother who was fully present and shared in their delight… and who wasn't preoccupied with a strange man she'd spoken with for all of ten minutes.
Ainar hadn't crossed her mind in over twenty-four hours. In fact, he was so far from her mind that when Bail appeared under a nearby arbor, she thought he'd come to merely say hello.
"Good morning. May I interrupt?"
"Certainly, I was just finishing," she made one last mark with her pencil. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
"The kind Alderaan is famous for," Bail agreed, though he looked somewhat uneasy.
Setting her sketchpad down, Padmé blinked up at him. "Is something the matter?"
"I did the research you requested. On Ainar."
"Oh!" the matter refreshed in her mind and she sat up a little straighter.
"Before I continue, are you absolutely sure of his name?"
"Yes!" she replied emphatically. "Why do you ask?"
He was clearly unsettled as he sat next to her. "Knowing how important this is to you, I ordered the most thorough search possible. Twelve aides and I worked until midnight to scan the records of every civilized planet in the galaxy."
Speechless at Bail's level of commitment, Padmé waited breathlessly for him to continue.
"I wasn't expecting to find much. Things like marriage records, property deeds, and other legal details can be hard to come by, depending on the system's government. But I thought I'd at least get one bit of information that's universally available: a birth record."
Padmé nodded. "Yes, and?"
"He doesn't have one."
Bail's matter-of-fact delivery of this news contrasted with its utter absurdity. Padmé froze, staring at him blankly while trying to decide whether to shout or laugh.
"What!"
"That's why I wondered if you had the name wrong. Or maybe he lied to you?"
She suddenly felt light-headed. "No, he didn't! I could just… tell."
"Well, I'm sorry, but the evidence says otherwise," Bail frowned. "When nothing came back for his full name, I filtered just the last name of Skywalker, thinking he might be using an alias – just as you do. Very little came up besides Anakin and his late mother, Shmi. Just a few other ancestors, all deceased."
Somehow, through the disorienting fog clouding her brain, Padmé realized there was still something to gain from this mess. A chance for insight.
"What planet contained their records?"
"Zygerria, in the Chorlian sector."
"The slavers' system?"
"That's right. They profited from that business for centuries, until the Jedi interfered several years ago."
The pieces of Anakin's life were, sadly, beginning to fit together. His entire lineage was slave-born, repressed from the earliest days. No wonder he'd bridled at being controlled by the Jedi. The very blood in his veins burned to be free of the chains encoded in his DNA. It burned so fiercely that the line between oppression and loving guidance became charred. In the end, he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
And now Padmé couldn't be sure where the facts ended and her sanity began.
The only logical explanation was that Ainar had lied. She had too, after all. "We must all be careful in these dark times."
It made perfect sense. So why did every fiber of her mind, body, and soul reject all common sense and insist Ainar was who he claimed to be?
The only thing she knew for sure was Bail had better things to do than listen to her argue the matter like a madwoman. He'd already given more of his time and energy than she deserved.
"Thank you for investigating this, Bail," she sighed.
He met her troubled eyes. "I'm sorry it was a disappointment. Truly I am."
"It wasn't a total loss. I learned something about… Anakin's past. His origins."
"Indeed," Bail nodded grimly. "There's always a silver lining, I suppose."
Padmé wiped a stray tear from her cheek, hoping he didn't see. "Well, I won't keep you. Palace business is far more important than my silly issues," she laughed dryly.
"I might object to that statement," he smiled. "But if you're fine with dismissing me, I'll see you later."
"Very good," she hugged him lightly.
Rising from the bench, Bail spotted the twins frolicking in the fountain and waved.
"Spin around and water the plants while you're at it!"
Luke responded by dunking Leia's head into the shallow pool, but he wasn't expecting her quick reflexes to drag him down with her. The feisty siblings really did kick and flail enough to generously sprinkle some of the surrounding bushes.
"They're definitely your children," Bail smirked over his shoulder at Padmé. "Two fish who love water more than land."
That they are, Padmé thought while smiling. Then, as Bail turned to walk away, her smile faded. Their mischievousness, on the other hand, they inherited from someone else…
Before she could indulge in the achingly poignant thought, a flurry of movement invaded her peripheral vision. Running at top speed toward her husband and Padmé, Queen Breha was flushed and panting when she reached them, placing a hand over her heart in relief.
"Oh… thank heavens… I found you," she gasped. "Padmé, you… and the children… must leave at once!"
Padmé stood immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Our scouts spotted… a shuttle landing in Aldera… just a few minutes ago," Breha slowly regained her breath. "It was Darth Vader's shuttle!"
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Three hours into the voyage to Tatooine, Padmé's heart finally started beating normally again. As far as she could tell, Luke and Leia's breathing was calm again as well, though both sat stiffly in their seats on Bail's hyperspace jet. They'd barely spoken ten words since boarding in a terrified rush. When her children were this quiet, Padmé knew they were scared witless.
There was simply no sugarcoating this situation. There were no canned platitudes to offer them comfort. What reassuring words could be said when the Dark Lord, the one whose waking and sleeping dictated every move they made, had been within two miles of them that morning?
Had he known they were there? Had he come to end this passive game of cat and mouse forever?
So close… he'd been so close…
It still chilled Padmé to the point of needing a thick blanket, which she shivered beneath even now. Fists clenching it against her neck, she struggled to warm herself. Breha walked in from the cockpit to find her like this.
"Just think, another couple hours and you'll overheat from two suns shining on you," she tried to sound cheerful.
"Yes, and from embarrassment too," Padmé grimaced. "The twins and I are the last people Owen and Beru want in their home, I'm sure."
"Why do you believe that? You're a familiar face. You're family."
"Yes, family through marriage to someone who became the scourge of the galaxy. I doubt they'll appreciate the reminder."
"From what you've told me, they're good people."
"And I'm taking advantage of their good nature!" Padmé lamented. "If Bail had a brother who turned evil after marrying someone, would you want the products of that marriage running around the palace, eating your food?"
Breha placed a warm hand on Padmé's shoulder. "I would never hold any child accountable for its father's transgressions. That would be cruel, not to mention futile. Punishing them does absolutely nothing for justice."
"I only hope the Lars share your compassion."
"They will," Breha assured calmly, "they will."
Having done her best to alleviate her friend's fears, Breha returned to co-pilot the ship at Bail's side, leaving Padmé alone with her worries. She felt somewhat consoled, but not entirely. She simply didn't know Owen and Beru well enough to predict their reaction with certainty. She only knew that they'd be well within their rights to scoff at the unannounced, unwelcome arrival of these three Skywalkers at their door.
Unbeknownst to her, one of those three Skywalkers was debating whether or not to ask his mother something.
"Mom?"
Padmé broke her train of thought. "Yes Luke?"
"I… I was... sort of wondering..." the boy fidgeted self-consciously. "Is Uncle Obi-Wan… me and Leia's dad?"
Of all the questions in the universe, this was probably the last one Padmé expected. But judging by the intently curious look on Leia's face, his sister had known it was coming.
"Luke, you know what your father looks like! I've shown you and Leia plenty of pictures."
He said nothing, looking down at his hands.
"Honey, why would you ask me that? Of course Uncle Obi-Wan isn't your father. He can't be, because… your father died," she swallowed with difficulty. Besides, your Jedi instincts should tell you it's not Obi-Wan, either. Where is this coming from?
Too shy to answer, Luke stared out the window, clenching his cheeks in frustration. It was then that Leia spoke up.
"We know daddy's not dead."
Padmé was too stunned to speak. She stared at her daughter, whose brown eyes dared her to contradict that statement. When Padmé didn't, Leia spoke again.
"You told Aunt Breha that Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru don't like daddy. I can tell from the way you said it that he's not dead."
And the many, many challenges of raising bright, Force-sensitive children had just begun.
"Luke and I thought it might be Uncle Obi-Wan because he never comes with us," Leia concluded. "Maybe he doesn't want Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru to see him."
When would Padmé learn to be more careful when speaking in front of them? Now. Right now was when she'd learn.
Maneuvering through this minefield would take all the diplomatic experience she had.
"Sweetheart, I know you want to understand everything that's going on, but you have to trust me. There are some things you're too young to hear yet," she stroked Leia's hair. "Uncle Obi-Wan and I only want to keep you and Luke safe. It might not make sense now but it will someday, I promise."
Her precocious daughter pursed her lips. "Will we get to see daddy someday too?"
Stars, when will this stop? They're killing me!
"I wish you could," her voice shook. "But I don't think that can ever happen."
"Why not?" Luke demanded.
"Just because Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru don't like him?" Leia asked defiantly.
Oh, if only it were for so petty a reason as that…
"I'm sorry, you're too young to understand," Padmé felt like crying. "But someday you will." Don't be in too much of a hurry to grow up and discover the truth, my loves. You don't realize how you'll long for these days of blissful ignorance.
Pouting, the twins sat with arms crossed until they arrived at Tatooine, at which point their attention was consumed by the fascinating sights and sounds of Mos Eisley. They resumed their pouting when that circus ended with a boring ride into the desert.
Miles of sand and rocks later, they disembarked at a small bleached hut overlooking moisture evaporators. The Lars homestead was modest, especially in dull twilight. But it was safe shelter. And if the lights inside were any indication, its owners were in.
Whether they were inclined to offer a warm welcome remained to be seen. Gripping her luggage and trying to cloak herself in Breha's words of wisdom, Padmé strode forward.
She was only too glad to let Luke and Leia do the knocking, which they took great pride in doing. The five-year-olds grinned excitedly at each other as they waited for someone to appear.
"I told you people not to come back!" Owen shouted angrily from inside. "This is your last warning! Get off my property or I'll start shooting!"
Petrified, all three dropped to the ground, not knowing what to do. Padmé started to hyperventilate. She'd expected a frosty reception, but this was a whole other level of hostility!
"You hear me, scum? If I never see your filthy hides again, it'll be too soon!"
Luke began to whimper and soon Leia was crying, too terrified to remain silent. Cradling them at her sides, Padmé prepared to shield them blaster shots. Yet they were all dumbstruck when, instead of firing, Owen poked his head out the nearest window and hit the back of his skull in shock.
"Padmé…? Is that you?!" he squinted in the dim light. "Holy banthas! I'm so sorry!"
It sounded like several objects were broken and/or tripped over in his rush for the door. When he opened it, a startled Beru looked on as her husband scrambled to help Padmé and the children up.
"I didn't mean to scare you half to death, honest! I didn't know it was you! I thought it was those jerks from Jabba's palace!"
Brushing herself off, Padmé stared at him in astonishment. "Trouble with the Hutts?"
"Unfortunately yes," he ushered them in. "You're the first welcome guests we've had in months!"
"We're both relieved, then. I feared you might turn us away."
Leaning in to hug them all, Beru looked mortified. "Never! What sort of people do you take us for?"
Padmé smiled ruefully. "It's who we are, not you."
"You are family," she smiled at Luke and Leia, who were still a little on edge. "Now come in. I need to undo Owen's damage before bedtime."
The damage was undone soon enough; the conversation was tenuously cheerful until Padmé told them her reason for being there. Mindful of the twins, Owen and Beru chose their response carefully, conveying empathy and concern without saying too much. When Padmé thanked them, they knew it was for their compassion as well as their discretion.
"Bail and Breha will let us know when it's safe to return to Naboo," she explained. "It shouldn't be much longer than two weeks."
"You can stay as long as needed," Beru assured her.
"Hope you all don't mind sharing a bedroom," Owen said.
"We don't," Padmé caught Luke and Leia's eyes. They didn't look put out. If they were like her, they'd have gladly slept in a hole in the ground if it meant safety from him.
"And be forewarned, there have been some odd folk stopping by lately."
"The Hutt agents?"
"Yeah," Owen crossed his arms. "First pair showed up a few months ago and asked if we'd ever considered selling this farm."
"They offered us far more than it's worth," Beru added. "But neither of us trusted them. Something felt off."
"And they didn't take no for an answer. Came back a month later and weren't nearly as friendly."
"Then last week, there were four of them."
"They said Jabba would have the land whether we sold it to him or not," Owen scowled. "Well, if they think Owen Lars runs from threats like that, they're even dumber than they look!"
Padmé shifted uneasily. Were she and the children any safer here than on Naboo or Imperial Center? Was there nowhere free of tension and menace anymore?
There really wasn't. This was not the same galaxy in which she'd grown up. No matter where you ran, peril nipped at your heels, just waiting for you to run out of breath.
"Do you have any idea why Jabba's so interested in a moisture farm?" she asked.
Owen shrugged. "Politics. Money. Maybe both. Your guess is as good as mine."
"And we still don't know if it has anything to do with that other man," Beru threw him a cautious glance.
"How could I forget?" he rolled his eyes. "Now he was a weird one!"
"Who's that?" Padmé asked, almost laughing.
"Freak show who came by last week. You wouldn't believe the things he said."
"Like what?"
Leaning forward, Owen raised his eyebrows. "That he was Anakin's father."
Padmé felt the bench beneath her give way.
"He said… what?" she whispered, paralyzed.
"Completely out of his mind!" Owen howled. "I was gonna shoot him out of here, but you know Beru and her heart of gold."
"He said he'd traveled, oh, I don't know how many light years to get here," Beru justified. "He might have been crazy, but I hated to turn him away empty-handed. So we told him about Shmi and Anakin."
"Figured he'd just keep bothering us until we told him anyway," Owen huffed.
Beru fidgeted her hands. "Say what you will, he did look like he could have been…"
"All right, so he was a dead ringer for Anakin in twenty years! I can't tell Twi'leks apart, so does that make them all brothers and sisters?"
"I don't want to argue," she held up her hands. "I'm just saying, crazy or not, he fit the part."
"Either way, I'm glad he hasn't come back. Now if Jabba's posse would only do the same…"
The rest of Owen's grumblings were lost on Padmé as Ainar's face filled her vision. For someone who shouldn't exist, he was unnervingly hard to ignore, much less forget.
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