"That worked," Leia said. "Again."
"Leia. Please don't."
She ignored him. Fair enough. "It didn't work on your father, and it didn't work on your mother." She sat down on the sofa next to him in his quarters, scanning the room. Padmé hadn't gone to the indignity of having guards in Luke's quarters—the quarters he was again sharing with Leia until they got hers together—to watch them, but that was the only bonus about this situation. "Are you going to give up?"
"Yes," Luke said. Then: "No."
"Didn't think so," Leia said, and went to the door.
He stayed sitting on the sofa, staring at his knees. She hadn't even considered it. Paradoxically, that gave him hope—her rejection had been more out of fear than because she'd actually stopped to think about his point; perhaps he could still convince her—but her eagerness to double down disturbed him. Did she really not care? Could he really be wrong about her, so thoroughly fooled by his own mother?
And would she do what she threatened? Alderaan was too beloved a planet for her to invade without consequences; if she'd been serious about not wanting to rule through fear with a Death Star, like she'd sold to him before, she couldn't do this either and expect her reign to be stable.
He'd failed. Ananya and the other fighters would be ready to pour into the void, only to find it already full. Or would they seize control only to be ousted again? Would they think that was his plan all along: to lure them out and trap them?
"Do you think she'll do it?" Luke asked.
"Yes," Leia said immediately. He must not be shielding very well, or she just knew him well enough to guess his thoughts. Or she was wrestling with those worries herself right now. "I do."
Was she doing it because they both believed she would? Because she thought she had nothing left of their opinions to lose? Was she just an evil, authoritarian empress who had no patience left for having her power threatened?
No, he thought. No, she wasn't. He knew that. She was his mother, Jobal's daughter, Sola's sister, and he knew there was still good in her. He just… needed to get her to see it.
"I don't," he said. It came out weak. Desperate.
Maybe he didn't truly believe in her at all. Maybe he just hadn't wanted his parents to be monsters.
"It doesn't matter either way," Leia said, ever the pragmatist. "We can't control that if we're stuck in here. Do you know how to get out of these rooms? You were confined to them for two months."
"I know some tactics." He got up and joined her beside the door. "Let me try them. I haven't hotwired a door in a while, but I can try…"
It was a welcome distraction, at the very least.
"These are your quarters?" Sabé asked quietly when Pooja finally returned late that night. She'd dressed her as a handmaiden immediately before entry to the palace and smuggled her up here pretending she was Dormé. She'd hidden in these quarters since then. "They're very… plain."
"They're the quarters of whatever spare handmaidens wish to stay the night—other than the handmaiden who may be on duty in the Empress's quarters, that is. They're not mine specifically." She flung open the wardrobe. It was a pretty frugal space, despite the grand size that all the rooms in the royal tower had. There was a double bed, a wardrobe, and an en suite fresher, but it was as clinical as a hotel.
"Still," Sabé said. "When we had a room like this on Naboo, there was a little personality to them. I could guess who put up which decoration, and whose bra I found at the bottom of the wardrobe."
Pooja wasn't sure if the idea of that made her wistful or uncomfortable. "The handmaidens aren't that close knit," she said. "At least, they're not with me. A long of the older ranks closed file against new recruits."
"That's a shame. Being a handmaiden used to be like having a second family."
"We're close to her. But not too close to each other." Having seen what Padmé's paranoia was like over her own son, Pooja wondered if it was intentional on her part, something to do with wanting to prevent them from ever developing a relationship more important than her. But it didn't really do to dwell on it.
She focused back on the wardrobe. There was a cream-coloured hooded cloak hanging at the far right of the wardrobe, lined with crimson silk; she pulled it off its hangar. "Put this on if you ever go out. This is the uniform for the handmaidens for today. This is what goes under it." She pointed to a red laced frock with white sleeves, identical to what she was wearing right now. "Tomorrow"—she reached in again, to pull out a dark green, high-necked gown with a capelet of sheer, translucent emerald fabric—"it will be this dress. But you're not going out as a handmaiden tomorrow."
"I'm not?"
"No." She closed the wardrobe, hanging the cloak and the dress on its door, and marched over to the satchel she carried around while doing her errands, slung over a chair next to the entrance. When she reached it, she pulled out a dagger. "Take this as well as the blaster."
Sabé took it and examined it. Pooja didn't know the significance of it, but she could guess: it was sheathed in black braided leather that had PAN embellished on it, and Sabé's name was inscribed on the hilt. Padmé had wielded it for years.
"They confiscated this on the Executor," she said drily.
"I got it back. I was meant to remove you from their custody anyway; I assumed that went for your property as well." But the humour in the words demanded the last of her strength from her. She sat down on the double bed, drained. "What's happening, Sabé?"
Sabé sat next to her. "I thought that was what you went to figure out."
"They've left the throne room. Luke and Princess Leia are both locked in their bedrooms. None of the other handmaidens know what happened, and I doubt they'd tell me anyway. Padmé and Vader are having a heated discussion in their bedroom. There's nothing to figure out."
"I think I might know what happened," Sabé said.
"What?"
Sabé paused. Pooja watched her swallow. "There's a lot of secrets I've kept," she said. "Luke knows them all, but the others don't. I think the last one has finally come out."
"Can you tell me it?"
Sabé nodded. "When Padmé gave birth, obviously her child survived," she said. "That was the first half of the secret. The other half of the secret was that he was one of two children. Twins. And Leia was his sister."
Pooja put her hand over her mouth. "That's not good."
"I doubt Padmé is pleased. Leia will have thoroughly vexed her. If they're both locked up, I imagine that Luke came out in support of her, and—" She swallowed. "Luke said, when he insisted that we come back, that he thought there was good in his parents."
"So you think that Princess Leia—Leia—" The girl was her cousin now, which seemed a staggering thought. "—mouthed off, Luke defended her but made it worse by asking Padmé to agree with them, and now they're both locked up?"
"Yes. We need to get them out now."
Pooja swallowed. "I did hear mutterings that Padmé is going to order the occupations of… half the galaxy. Too many planets. She's angry."
"Exactly. We need to get them out."
"Now?"
"Now." She stood up and reached for the cloak Pooja had indicated. "We don't have any time to waste—"
"Wait."
"This cannot wait!"
"You won't be wearing the handmaiden's cloak."
Sabé looked at her. "What did you have in mind?"
"You won't be able to get to Luke's quarters just as a handmaiden. We're trusted, but he's the prince—and now she's the princess. You need something better."
"Like what? Do you have a red guard uniform in there?"
"Better," Pooja said, and walked back over to the wardrobe. She felt almost nervous as she opened it, removed the false back, and leaned it against the dresser to let Sabé see inside.
Rows of stiff, grand dresses, in every colour in existence. Wigs along the back. Hairpieces and hairnets, all dripping with jewels. Fake, of course, but convincing enough to the casual eye. Shoes. And, the final piece: a copy of the crown, on the very top shelf of the false back, just as artificial as the jewels in all the other garments, but designed to be nearly indistinguishable from the real thing.
"We need these here in case we need to make a rapid switch out, sometimes," Pooja said. "That's how Umé died, pretending to be Her Majesty in the middle of an assassination attempt. Dalné too." Sabé stirred at the mention of that name, but Pooja didn't question it.
"You want me to waltz up there and pretend to be Padmé?" Sabé asked incredulously.
"It would work."
"It would. I'm just impressed at your boldness."
"She's locked herself in her rooms with Vader. Luke's quarters are down the corridor, but near enough that the guards there won't be able to hear that she's in there. And the guards are used to her popping up in random places around the palace. She doesn't like being watched except when she wants it. No one will dare question you." She paused. "Unless you can't do it."
"I can do it." She stepped up next to Pooja and put her hands on her hips, scanning the dresses. Eventually, she picked out a dark green silk gown with gold petticoats and decorations, the shoulders capped with shoulder guards shaped like scales. A pale gold cape draped from the shoulders of the dress, fine as a spider's web. "This is something she would wear in this situation. It's suitable for the evening, so it's less ornate, but has tones of aggression in it. She wouldn't want people to forget how powerful she is, right now."
"You know her very well," Pooja said.
"I do." She took her jacket off and made to unbutton her tunic. "Do my hair. We don't have time to waste."
In the end, Sabé looked enough like Padmé—and did a good enough job of imitating her when she was furious—that Pooja was almost cowed.
"Well," she said, imitating her voice. It wasn't Padmé's or Sabé's natural voice, but something in between: the queen's voice. Padmé used it for orders, still; it would be good enough to fool the guards. Probably. "Shall we go?"
"Yes, my lady," Pooja said, and smiled.
They worked on the door for hours, to no avail. They were eventually left slumped against it, Leia's head on his shoulder, exhausted. Sleep would be a good idea at this point, especially given the stressful day they'd had, but Luke's stubbornness refused to let him. Perhaps if he tried that tactic again. What if he did this? Ideas pinged like a dying message chain in his mind, slower, slower…
His ears pricked up. "Someone's coming," he said.
Leia roused, blinking. "Who?" she demanded in a whisper, but they both scrambled to their feet. One shared look later, and they had their ears pressed against the door.
"Your Majesty!"
"I have many things I need to address with them. Do not follow me in."
"As you wish, Your Majesty. Miss." That last part—she must be with a handmaiden. Luke stretched out to sense them, sensed Leia doing the same…
"Get back!" she hissed and pulled them back from the door just as it shot open. Padmé swept in, Pooja at her right, with her hands clasped in front of her.
She narrowed her eyes at both of them as the door slammed shut again. Her fury was clearly not spent—which was strange, because Luke didn't sense any anger from her.
"What do you have to say?" Leia snapped. "What do you have to address? We can pick up exactly where we left off in the throne room, but it won't get us anywhere. You're a monster for taking this out on Alderaan, but it will not change my mind—"
Luke stared at the Empress's face. It was made up beautifully, her hair piled into a topknot of pearls on her head. In the middle of Leia's speech, he stepped forwards to grab her hand.
"Aunt Sabé," he said, like her name was a breath of relief. "You're not in the cells." He looked at Pooja and realised. "You liar."
His sister grinned shyly at him. Sabé squeezed his hands. "We're here to get you out." She glanced over her shoulder, back towards the guards. "I think I can escort you to a hangar like this, can't I? Far enough, at least."
"Sabé?" Leia asked. "That's… uncanny."
"I've had a lot of practice," Sabé said, with Padmé's precise inflections and mannerisms. Leia looked torn between awe and disgust. "And I have to give credit to Pooja."
"With a trusted handmaiden at your side, no one would find it suspicious," Luke said.
"That, and it was her idea." He looked to her; Pooja's grin turned proud. "Come." Sabé turned, using her grip on Luke's hand to tug him. "We need to go."
"Yes." Leia kicked her brain into gear. "Everything about this is terrible, but we can salvage it. Use it to our own advantage before she spins it to hers. If both you and I"—she gestured between her and Luke—"make a big deal about defecting to the Rebels, that legitimises the Rebellion and casts scandal on the Empire."
"You would publicly admit to being her daughter?" Pooja asked.
"If I waited until she accused me of being her daughter, and my parents of kidnapping, then any defence I would mount would look like I was being forced," Leia said. "I have to. It's my choice, at least." She glanced at Luke. "I know you don't get that choice."
He smiled faintly. "It doesn't matter," he said, letting go of Sabé's hand. "I'm still staying."
Sabé closed her eyes in frustration. "How did I know you would say that?"
Leia was less gentle. "You're a fool. Don't endanger yourself, myself, and the whole rebellion on your delusions, Luke. We need to go before more damage is done."
"You need to go. I haven't changed my mind. My place is still here. I can't run from this."
"Yes," Pooja said heatedly, "you can. Why are you like this?"
"Like what?"
"Always putting your insane ideas above your own safety!"
"They're my ideas and my safety to do it for," he retorted. "Don't lecture me about that again."
To his surprise and gratitude, she backed off. Leia didn't. "Luke, you can't stay."
"What are you going to do, kidnap me again?"
"Can't," Sabé said. "Don't have the resources."
"Then are you going to do it now?"
Leia looked at the three of them, considering it for a laughable moment. "Definitely don't have the resources."
"And it was wrong," Sabé amended. Leia didn't look like she agreed. "I didn't realise that you wanted to stay before. But Luke—are you sure this will help?"
Was he? "Yes."
"Are you sure," Leia challenged, "or are you dreaming?"
"I'm sure," he repeated, stronger. "I have faith in her. We can all escape this room. But I can't leave this palace until I've tried again."
Leia glared at him, and for a moment he felt her hate him. He met her gaze and mouthed an apology. She could escape, but… he couldn't.
"Let's get you all out, then," Sabé said. She cleared her throat. "Look penitent. A little scared, even."
That wasn't hard to do, once she stiffened her spine and took on Padmé's terrifying expressions. Luke stepped back, ducked his head with respect; even Leia seemed to tremble with barely concealed fury. But she concealed it. That was what the guards would see.
Sabé rapped on the door with one gloved hand. The red guards exited.
"My children are beginning the road to penitence," she said, her tone as sharp as the watchful eye she cast over them. Pooja lifted her hood again and positioned herself behind them, like she was flanking them. "I require you both to escort us. I intend to show them the cells, to make sure they understand the necessity of what the Empire does—and how lucky they have been in their imprisonment."
Luke didn't have to fake his shiver. His mother had never said anything like that to him until the throne room earlier that day; he hadn't fathomed she could speak so harshly. Sabé clearly did.
Did she just know Padmé so well that she knew how she would behave in a time like this, when she was stretched to breaking point? Or was Padmé regularly this cruel?
The red guard saluted. "Yes, Your Majesty!" and flanked them: one in the front, one in the back.
Sabé and Pooja moved faster than he could have expected. Blasters leapt into their hands; stun bolts leapt out of them. The guards fell underneath the barrage. Luke and Leia caught them before they could hit the floor too loudly.
"Strip them of their weapons and comlinks," Sabé murmured, "and toss them back in Luke's living room."
They did. They were heavy, but from the number of stun bolts they had taken, they would be under for quite a while. The curtains on the windows had a thick rope to pull them with; Sabé cuffed the guards with their own binders, then sliced that off to tie them up more thoroughly. When they left, they locked the door behind them.
Sabé took a deep breath. Pooja, to Luke's surprise, took Luke's hand and pressed their palms together, before letting go.
"If you still really want to go, Luke," she said. "Now is the time."
"I'll give you time to run," he promised. "I'll distract them before they can send anyone after you."
She kissed his forehead. When she let go, something in him tore. "Do your best for us." She wasn't talking about the escape group.
Luke nodded. He hesitated for a moment, overwhelmed with the desire to hug his two sisters, who had saved him time and time again, but he didn't think he could handle that. Instead, he nodded at them; they nodded back. He thought they understood.
Without any other word, he turned and ran down the corridor. Around the corner, through the double doors that led to his parents' living room, and through to his mother's study.
Pooja said weakly, "We can't leave him, can we?"
Sabé swallowed. Leia felt her looking at her.
"I won't jeopardise your freedom," she said.
Leia grimaced. Luke was a fool on a fool's errand. He was about to get himself locked up again, and potentially bring worse consequences down on Naboo, because he didn't understand how evil his mother truly was.
But he was her brother, and her best friend.
"Let him try," she said. "Amidala will be too incensed to listen if she sees me there. Wait until he's softened her up a bit."
Pooja hugged her.
Leia blinked, tentatively bringing her arms up to hug her back. By that point, Pooja had pulled away again, looking embarrassed, but they shared a smile.
"Thank you," she said, then added, "cousin."
There were some people in this family, Leia thought, that she was, perhaps, privileged to know.
The orders blinked on her datapad. Padmé stared at them for the fiftieth time this evening and screamed, turning sharply on her heel to pace her study again. The dark red skirts of her evening gown swirled around her knees; the multi-coloured beading caught the light and shimmered. It was an unwelcome distraction in the corner of her eye that gave her a headache, but no matter. There were plenty of things to give her a headache, right now.
"Princess Leia," she repeated angrily, "is our daughter?"
Vader stood awkwardly in the corner, watching her pace. "Yes," he said. "I wanted to—"
"You did not think to tell me this earlier?"
"You would not have believed me."
"I still barely believe you."
"I have DNA evidence, Padmé."
She stopped and flopped onto her armchair. "I know," she said. "It feels like I am being mocked. Princess Leia is my daughter, after I spent so long ignoring the similarities. Our son grew up on Tatooine, after everything you did to it. And our son went back to Tatooine when he was kidnapped, and now he's preaching Rebel propaganda again." She buried her face in her hands. "What did I do wrong? And why can't I send those kriffing orders?"
"They may be rash," her husband ventured.
"Rash? I enabled your brutalities in the Outer Rim for years, I have defended you from accusations and demands that you be brought to justice for your fatal whims, and I have cleaned up the mess you made with your rash actions many a time."
"Because you love me," Vader said. "As I have defended you loyally, unflinching, because I love you."
She gritted her teeth. "Yes," she said, forcing herself to relax. "Yes, that's true."
"Do you trust me, Padmé?" he asked.
She blinked. "Of course," she said.
"Then why do you have spies on my ship?"
It had been an open secret between them for years. She hadn't realised he was so bothered by it. "For my own peace of mind," she said. "You are less than stellar at reporting often. My agents—not spies—tell me where you are, and that you are safe."
"And that I am meeting with Princess Leia."
"You should have told me about that," she said. "Do not make me regret demanding that, because I had every reason to."
"I didn't, because you would not have let me pursue it."
"Because it was a ridiculous claim!"
"I felt the truth of it in the Force."
"You've felt the truth of it in the Force many times before."
"You do not trust me, then," he concluded flatly. "Or rather, my judgement."
She smiled sadly. "Only in this area, Ani," she said. "It's… grief. You can't handle it. Everything else, I trust you on."
"Then why did you not tell me you knew where Kenobi was? You knew that hunting him was my greatest obsession."
She paused, but only for a moment. "That was precisely why I kept it from you. Your obsession was unhealthy. It was destroying you. I didn't want to watch you implode; I was hoping it would fade. When you seemed to switch focus—to Luke—I was grateful. Even if I thought you were setting yourself down the path of pain yet again, I was glad that you had an obsession based on hope, rather than hatred."
"And so you had Sabé kill him," he said, "instead of me? I had the right to."
"I needed a test. And I needed him dead. And I still believe that killing him would have destroyed you." She softened her voice. "I wanted to protect you, Ani." He didn't take to the tenderness, so she sharpened her tone again. "If you are so insistent on doing the honours, he may still be alive. We haven't ascertained that, or Sabé's true loyalties, yet."
"You are distracted by her. She flaunts your trust so often, and yet you still grant her it, while you withhold it from me."
"I…" She paused. "I am certain that she wishes to become loyal again. It is a winding path, trying to put her in a position where she can."
"You are as obsessed with her as I am with Obi-Wan."
"What point are you making?"
"That you don't trust me." He stepped forwards, spun around, clenching his fists. It was his turn to pace, now. "I am happy to be your inferior. I am your inferior. It is understandable that your guards are equipped to fight me, because if I ever lose control again, I would rather they kill me than allow me to lay a finger on you. But I cannot stand that you doubt my love for you." He stopped in front of her. "Anything you ask, I will do. Because you asked."
She looked up at him curiously. She had dealt with outbursts and spats from her husband before, but nothing along this line. "All who have power fear to lose it. We both know that. I fear to lose it. I cannot trust anyone entirely; I must exert personal control. That is the nature of being the Empress."
"Then perhaps you should not be the Empress." He stopped. "No. That is not what I meant. You are everything the galaxy needs, as Empress. But if you were gone, there would be nothing left for me. You do not need to fear me taking your power from you."
"And yet you complain about the ways I exert power over you," she said slowly. That first, horribly, unintentionally rebellious thing he had said. That betrayed exactly where this line of reasoning was coming from. "And if I were gone, you would still have someone to live for. We both have Luke, now. Who I presume is the fool who filled your head with such ridiculous concerns."
Her husband stiffened. Took a step back from her.
"Forgive me, Padmé," he said. "He tried to convince me of his crusade on the journey here."
"It sounds to me like you were convinced."
"He spoke of an imbalance of power."
"That is how governments work. I would hope that he would know that."
"He discussed Tatooine in this context," Vader said. "The suffering that came from that imbalance. I do not want you to order a renewal of the Outer Rim Project. It would cause him too much pain."
"That was rather the point," she said, but her heart softened. Hearing it put like that… she didn't want to hurt her son. Not so deeply. "And that is your pet project, Anakin."
"Luke was right. It was unnecessary."
"I disagree. I think you do, too."
"It hurt Luke." The words lashed out of him. "He has stopped hiding his scar. Every day on the trip here, I looked at it. When he sat on the throne beside you, I looked at it. I cannot undo what I did to him." He paused. "We cannot undo it."
"Then what are you suggesting?" she threw back, her hackles raised. She stood up to better confront him, despite how small she was compared with him. "That I concede to his demands? For what? Family? I built the Empire for the family that was lost, to create a safe galaxy, to do something right instead of contributing to a corrupt, useless system—"
"Padmé, teach me," he begged. "How can you have such faith that we succeeded, when every time we look our son in the face we see the proof that we did not?"
"He is manipulating you with his scar," Padmé said. "Anakin, we still did the right thing."
"And you do not manipulate me?"
"I love you," she said.
"So does Luke."
"I don't doubt that. I doubt his wisdom, and the hurtful ways that young, brash people can express love." She touched her neck. Vader was instantly cowed.
The fact that he did cow—actively, physically shrink back, like little Ani on Tatooine had when Watto had scolded him—stopped her. Something of what Luke had said about them was true. That was what made it so dangerous.
"I love you," she repeated. "That's why I act towards you as I do. And I love the galaxy, and so I rule it in the same way."
"That galaxy is revolting against us. Worlds are slipping through our fingers." Vader paused. "Is that what our love should do?"
"The Rebellion are no threat."
"They are," he said. "You have not fought them. I have. Even disunited, they keep coming back. You complain that I leave you so often, without acknowledging the cause."
"I will not tolerate this from you." She took several steps towards him, pointing a finger in his mask. "What would you have me do? Declare a democracy? Resign as Empress? The only way forward is to stay the course. It is the fate we were given. We must continue."
"You can continue without creating a totalitarian state and becoming a paranoid dictator, Mother. We can reform the Empire to be better."
She whirled around.
Luke was in the doorway to her study, out of his rooms, and watching her.
"Are you here to convince your father of more foolishness?" Padmé threw at him. Luke winced. "Or have you already caused him enough misery?"
"It's not foolishness," he said doggedly. "It's right. The Empire is even more corrupt than the Republic—"
"Because of me?" she asked. "That is what you accused me of."
"Yes. Because of you." He stepped forwards. "You make decisions on a whim. You shield us, your family, from the consequences of our actions even though that is not justice. And you punish planets to punish us, as well." He glanced at her desk, where her datapad was still glowing—and froze.
"You haven't sent the orders yet," he said.
She glared at him. "I will do that forthwith. Why are you out of your rooms? How did you escape? Is Leia with you?"
"You don't want to send the orders," he realised. "You can't."
"If you apologise for your irrational behaviour and cease engaging in it, I will not send them. Are we in agreement?"
"No, Mother. You can't send them."
"Sabé got you out," she guessed suddenly, looking at Luke's tunic. Sabé's tunic. "Didn't she? But how? Pooja transferred her to the palace cells."
"There's good in you," he pleaded, grasping for her hand. Her velvet glove came off in his grip as she snatched her hand away.
"There is good in me," she agreed. "That's why I work so hard in this job, every day. It's why I still try and try to make you understand, even when you defy me."
"You agreed to lift the occupation of Naboo because I asked, and you care about people. I don't believe you want this destruction. Even after what you said earlier."
"I had hoped you already knew that, Luke," she said. "But you should also know by now that this destruction is not my doing. The occupations are there because people resist. We cannot change that."
"People resist because they're unhappy. Because they know that they deserve better than the controlling regime they live underneath. If you let me help you, if we could give them better—"
"I have given them better."
"And we can still do better, Mother," Luke insisted. "Please. Give me a chance to show you what I mean."
She sucked in a breath. Luke held out her glove, and she took it back, slotting it over her hand. She worked her jaw, looking from her datapad, to Luke, to Vader.
"I wish I could trust you," she said. "If you had asked me this before you left, I would have. When we last had dinner together, you could have asked for anything. I would have forgiven you your Rebel sympathies."
"I know, Mother. The same way you forgive Father's atrocities and protect him from retribution. The same way that when he nearly killed you, you forgave him. If he kills thousands of people, you offer him the chance to repent before you condemn him. You sacrificed everything for your family, including your moral code. This is what this is about, isn't it?"
She stared at him, gobsmacked. He took the chance to keep talking.
"You were as dutiful as anyone, but you wanted a family. And when it was either threatened, or taken from you, or it turned against you, you doubled down on everything you had thrown away for it. The Republic was gone, your child was gone, but the Empire was here. You never looked back."
He lowered his voice. "Your child is not gone. Look back now. Walk back with me. You don't need to be so uncompromising."
"You would rather I cave?" she sneered.
"I would rather you sought support and worked with us. I would rather you tried to do better, instead of obsessing over what you've lost and freezing the galaxy under military rule to prevent anyone from ever losing more! The Clone Wars are over, Mother. Palpatine is gone. Stop maintaining his tomb."
He thought of the flowers on Shmi Skywalker's grave.
She shook her head. "I cannot trust you."
"You can."
"You left, Luke."
"I was kidnapped!"
"You would have left me." She turned away from him, her hand to her mouth as she fought back tears. "You would have betrayed me. You were tempted." She strode past Vader, who was just standing there. Watching them. Torn between who he wanted to defend.
"But I didn't. Mother, I wanted to stay. I was taken by force. I came straight back to you the moment I could."
She shook her head. He didn't know what he was watching, why she was insisting so heavily on this, but it cut him to the core. "I don't believe you," she said. "I can't."
"Is that not the paranoia that comes from too much power?" he said. "That you can't trust your own son didn't leave you of his own free will? That you don't believe him when he says he loves you?"
"You have not said that."
"I have!" he shouted. "Many times! And I'll say it again, because I mean it. I love you, and I want what's best for all of us—our family, the galaxy—before war and misery tear it apart. I love you."
"LIAR!"
She lunged for him.
Everything happened at once. Luke threw himself back, tripping over the armchair and sprawling to the floor in front of the fireplace; for a moment, the light seared his eyes. His hair smouldered for a moment and went out. A lot more people suddenly crowded the room and then he blinked the sparks from his vision and looked up and—
"Don't touch him," Sabé said, her arm around Padmé's chest like a vice. She held a dagger to her neck. When she tilted it, Luke noticed that it had Sabé carved onto it in looping script.
Padmé's crown toppled off her head. It rolled along the carpet, diamonds winking like eyes, to stop at Luke's feet.
"You did release him then," Padmé snarled, but she didn't move.
"Unhand her." Vader strode forwards. "Unhand her immediately—"
Sabé tilted the dagger back again, so it brushed Padmé's skin. Padmé yelped. Vader froze. "Stand back. I don't want anybody to get hurt."
"Then release my wife," he hissed.
Leia levelled a blaster at his chest. "So she can attack Luke again?"
"I was not going to attack my son!" Padmé spat, but her eyes flicked down to Luke, and she saw him there, clambering shakily to his feet. A hand helped him, and he gripped it like a lifeline.
When he was on his feet again, and scanned the room, he realised it was Pooja. Padmé had realised that too. She was staring at her in horror.
"Pooja," she said darkly. "You betrayed me as well?"
Luke expected his sister to shrink or grimace. She didn't. She glared. "Do you have any idea how much you ask of us?" she demanded. "Of course I betrayed you. You already dominated my life, isolated me, turned me against my family, and tried to forge me into you. And then you were going to do it to my brother." She gripped his hand tightly. "Yes, I betrayed you. I betrayed you so the Rebellion could get Luke away from you!"
Vader's head swivelled towards her. "You stole him?" he growled. "I sensed your constant guilt, but you seemed too puny for it to be anything of note—"
"Don't you play the hero, Anakin," Padmé snapped. "Luke spoke to you once, and now you were spouting borderline treasonous talk as well. All of you—all of you betrayed me!"
"You tried to control all of us," Sabé said. "People don't like being controlled."
"I loved you. I loved all of you."
"That didn't make it right."
"So is this it, Sabé?" she asked. "Are you going to cut my throat after all? Are you going to kill me, like Naboo killed King Veruna?" She closed her eyes. She was crying, Luke realised.
"Do it," she whispered. "It's just politics."
Sabé shifted her grip on the dagger. Vader and Luke both tensed, ready to lunge; both of them fumbled with numb fingers in the Force for the blade—but Sabé threw it aside.
It hit the wall and stuck there, quivering.
"No," she said. "It doesn't have to end like that. You had the grace to spare my life, when I was sure you would kill me." She let go of Padmé and let her turn; the two women looked each other in the eye. "And I will not have the death of another monarch on my hands. I won't let your blood on my hands rule me any more than you will."
Padmé stared at her, utterly baffled.
She took a step back. Another step back, like she wanted to stand by her husband so that he could comfort her but wasn't sure that comfort was what she would get. She stumbled to a halt, as they stood around her in a rough ring.
"All of you," she repeated. "All of you betrayed me."
"I didn't even like you in the first place," Leia said.
"Yes, Leia. You did." She smiled bitterly and threw her gaze around more. It fluttered like a brown butterfly across all of them, anger and pain warring for dominance. Eventually, it landed on the crown at Luke and Pooja's feet. She laughed.
"Take it," she said hoarsely. "Any of you." Looked again from Luke to Pooja to Leia. "You're all my heirs. You're all my family. You can take my crown and do what you want with it, if I am not here to stop you."
Leia looked at Luke. She didn't deign to look at the offending piece of metal. Luke met her gaze, then looked at Pooja.
Pooja was the one who picked it up.
Padmé nodded, sharply. "You're not my daughter," she accused, as Pooja stepped towards her. "But you're mine more than my children are, anyway. You were my first protégé. You deserve this—"
"I don't want it," Pooja said.
Padmé stopped talking.
Pooja looked over her shoulder at them, then back to Padmé. "None of us have ever wanted this." She placed it back on Padmé's head, like Empress Amidala was being crowned backwards. "We do not have to take it."
Padmé stared at her niece as she backed away again and retook Luke's arm.
"How dare you?" she demanded at last. "This is everything! How dare you—"
"Mother," Luke whispered. "Listen to me. Please."
She turned to him. "There's nothing else I can do, is there?" she bit out. "Even if I summon my guards, and they arrest all of you—"
"You did this all for family," he agreed. "And you will forgive family over and over. Because you can't do it without us."
She shut her mouth.
"This family," he said, voice shaking, "is broken. And it's broken because of you." He looked around the ring of people. His father was stiff, one hand outstretched to Padmé, but not far enough. Sabé and Leia were spread out, flanking the doors. Pooja and Luke were still holding hands. "The galaxy is being torn to shreds."
He took a breath. "But we can start trying to mend it.
"You can refuse. You can still have us all arrested. You can control the Empire alone. But what would be the point? Why would you want to fight the rising tides of Rebellion if there is no one to fight them for? What is the point of your rule?
"We can't change what has happened. Plenty of people will want to walk away." His gaze flitted to Sabé and Leia. "But I want to stay. I want you to help me fix this." He let go of Pooja's hand to step forwards and offer both of his to Padmé. "No matter what I do, you will have shaped me, the way Palpatine shaped you. You have determined the galaxy I grew up in. We can change what comes next." He shook his head. "I still want my mother. I don't think, after you've spent so long without us, you want to lose your children, either."
Her gaze was blurry. He met it unflinchingly. She stroked his cheek, tracing the contours of his scar with her fingertips. It was the first time she'd ever willingly touched it.
She looked over his shoulder, at Pooja and Leia. At Sabé. At her husband, loyal unto death, shaken and scarred. She admitted, "I don't want to lose you."
Then she took his hands.
"Talk to me, Luke," she croaked. "I'll hear what you have to say."