In the hustle and bustle of the grand ballroom of Senator Hedsard's estate, Dorme had quickly gotten lost in the crowd leaving Padme alone amongst a vast ocean of finery. She wasn't afraid to be without her handmaiden for a small while, after all, her security detail was expertly spread throughout the crowd, watching closely for any threats or dangerous situations. The last time she had spied her friend had been near a mountainous display of champagne glasses built steadily atop each other to form an immense pyramid shape. The sparkling liquid was plentiful, filling every last glass to its gleaming rim.

Padme had left her friend to enjoy her time in peace. A position as a handmaiden for any person of rank, though treated with great honour and well-compensated, meant nights off were rare and free time almost impossible to find. It would be good for Dorme to have some fun for herself tonight.

Padme's eyes swept across the ballroom for the hundredth time since she had arrived. Senators she recognised worked the room with one another, gossiping, networking and whispering things she had to try very hard not to care about. Despite all of the logic her mind possessed, her hopeless heart sank in her chest when there was no sign of Anakin anywhere. He had said he wanted to see her again and her heart clung to the comment, analysing hidden meanings or possibilities those words might carry. Would he ask her to dance? Or would he find her to share more quiet words and warm smiles in some private, intimate corner of the room? It had been over an hour since her arrival and she hadn't seen the blonde Prince even once.

Her disappointment was biting, but it wasn't often Padme was able to see people in proper social settings where many inhibitions were truly shed. Usually, her time was spent in professional meetings and Senate gatherings full of squabbling and bickering debates that inflicted painful headaches more often than not. It was nice, for once, to see people interacting calmly, laughing and enjoying themselves without a care in the galaxy. On her right, a young Twi'lek couple of blue and green circled each other slowly in the very centre of the dance floor, gazing into one another's eyes with such intimate adoration that her own heart fluttered. She wondered if they would linger long enough for the final dance of the evening, the 'Vaule'? The most romantic, infamously slow waltz which included lifts and turns to a lovely swelling beat. She had stayed late at galas and events just to watch as couples danced it from the shadowed sidelines more times than she cared to admit.

It was a simplistic dance in nature with easy timing and gentle grace until, after a minute or two, one partner would so carefully lift the other by the waist up into the air and turn a full circle before lowering them to their feet once more, where one would turn, hooking their arm up and around the backing partner's chest, drawing their bodies so closely together, tempting them with mere inches between their faces before another short twirl would separate them once more and on it went. It was one of the most romantic encounters Padme had ever glimpsed and she wanted to experience it for herself tonight at last. A small, childish piece of her foolish heart, one which understood nothing of logic or rational thought hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would share it with Anakin.

She was being ridiculous. Allowing this fantasy to continue would only hurt her heart. She was deluding herself! The harsh and necessary truth was undeniable – if she wanted to dance the Vaule this evening, Padme would have to find another partner.

Her eyes moved across the crowded dancefloor yet again, through the almost endless gathering of strangers and colleagues until her eye caught that of a particularly handsome young man with perfectly styled, bright red hair and nice broad shoulders. He was staring at her, Padme realised with a flip of her stomach, there was no mistaking it. Instantly, she pulled her gaze away to the floor as she felt herself blush beneath the heat of his gaze.

Steeling herself, the Senator slowly lifted her gaze again, prepared this time to smile, only the gentleman had vanished into the crowd.

Well, that was a little disappointing...

Regardless, the night was young and many hours of the party lay ahead of her! There was no need to feel so disappointed over one little glance from a stranger of all people. It was only one small moment, one most sane people wouldn't think twice about it –

"A credit for your thoughts?" From seemingly nowhere Prince Anakin appeared by her side, his bright azure eyes watching the crowd of dancers sweeping across the floor before sliding back to her. "You seem distracted, Senator."

Padme closed her eyes as the music swelled and raucous laughter filled the room. Heady scents of perfumes and exotic, wonderful foods filled the temperate room. All at once, every hidden desire she felt for this man ached deep within her, throbbing worse than they ever had. Magic filled the space around them as couples shared smiles and graceful movements before her eyes as they swayed to the beat. Maybe… maybe it would not be all so bad to indulge herself this one time? This was a celebration was it not? She was supposed to be enjoying herself! Steeling her every nerve, Padme sucked in a long, deep breath and prayed to the Gods for bravery as she looked to the Prince by her side with a practised smile she usually reserved for nerve-wracking moments in the Senate. "I was just thinking about how nice it might be to join in," she glanced at the dancers, making her point clear, "Perhaps… would you like to join me?"

Just as she hoped he did not hear the waver of uncertainty laced through her request, Anakin looked more stricken than flattered and her heart sunk furiously as he shook his head. "I… Force, I would… I'm sorry," he shook his head, "I can't."

"Oh," mortification flooded her every nerve all at once and panic followed frighteningly close behind it, muting her thoughts. How would she ever look him in the eye again? What was she thinking? "I – I'm sorry I asked, I didn't think…"

"I can't," Anakin's voice grew tight and strained, "I just… I'm sorry but I can't."

Humiliation burned inside of her. Why was he repeating himself like that? Wasn't the first rejection embarrassment enough for her? "I understand," Padme forced a tight, pained laugh through her pressed lips. "It was only a dance, it's not important."

"You don't understand," he shook his head, avoiding her eye now as he watched the dancers glide around them though Padme caught the tight clench of his jaw as he ground his teeth together. "There are certain rules… it's more complicated than… It wouldn't be only a dance' to me, Senator," he whispered, finally turning back to her. His vibrant blue eyes were dark and hungry as they took her in once more.

At this, Padme flinched even as Anakin tore his gaze away from her again. What did that mean? Her bewildered mind grew further as the Prince stepped backwards, searching the sea of people to his left as she desperately attempted to make sense of what had just happened. "Your Highness," she shook her head as tears threatened to rise in her gaze, "I don't – "

There was no opportunity to voice whatever staggered thought her lips fluttered around as he plucked an approaching man from the crowd his eyes had torn through and Padme's breath stilled to see the same styled hair and broad shoulders she had admired earlier from across the dancefloor. "Excuse me," Anakin forced a snarling smile over his reluctant lips. "The Senator of Naboo would like to dance," his voice sounded somehow even more strained than before.

"Oh well, good thing I was on my way over to ask just that," the stranger smiled shyly as he fell into a deep, respectful bow toward Anakin.

As her mouth opened and then shut itself, the ferocity painting blonde Skywalker's expression faded into a softness which fed both the utter confusion and ache that she felt. "I'll see you around, Senator," he tipped his head, "enjoy your dance."

Fading into the mass of people gathered to observe the dancing, Padme could only gape silently until the man behind her awkwardly cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. He was dressed finely in exquisite velvet robes of vibrant emerald, with gleaming silver, metallic embellishments which suited his colouring well. "I hope you won't find me impolite if I admit that I only know you by your political titles, my lady. May I ask your first name?"

Despite the confusion and the hurt Anakin had just thrust upon her, she felt herself smile at this man's sweetness. He was extremely attractive and he looked to be around her age, perhaps a year or two off and now he was closer, Padme could see his hair was wavy but short. Is this what Anakin's would be like if he cut it? She shook that thought off immediately. What was she doing? She should focus on the handsome man who seemed to actually want to spend some time with her. Whatever the Prince had meant by what he said, the result was the same. Anakin did not long for something between them as she did – she had known all along, of course, but the confirmation was not as easy to swallow as she had thought.

"Oh, not at all," she smiled. "I'm Padme. Padme Amidala Naberrie."

"Can I interest you in a drink, Padme?" He asked politely, waving down one of the hovering serving droids carrying the complimentary champagne on similar platters owned by the hotel. When she nodded, he plucked two beautiful, long-stemmed glasses from the tray and handed her one, clinking their glasses together with a smile. The crystal caught flickers of light and shone small and vibrant rainbows on their clothing proving their great value. Perhaps all this wasn't as impressive as Anakin's trick with the force, but it was nice to have a little attention. Padme took a deep swallow of her drink, hoping the fizzing alcohol would provide her with a little courage. How could she stand in the Senate and speak before millions without breaking a sweat, but a small flirtation made her heart race? "Now, aren't you the Senator who single handily pushed three educational reforms through a deadlocked Senate vote?" A genuine flash of excitement danced in his eyes. "You must be Shiraya herself reborn to have pulled that off."

Now it was her turn to be surprised – it was rare to encounter someone not of Nubian decent to know their deities. Shiraya being the goddess of knowledge on her homeworld, Padme had always held great respect for that particular divinity throughout her life. There were several statues and artworks devoted to Shiraya decorating her apartment back home on Coruscant. Knowledge and education for all was a cause very close to her heart.

"Wouldn't I need wings to be Shiraya?" She dared a flirtatious jibe of her own, and though she knew that was what all his comment truly was at its heart, the Senator couldn't help but feel more than slightly flattered by the compliment regardless.

"Well," he laughed gently, "If Naboo can craft something as splendid as yourself, Senator Amidala, then I'm sure it can reform its most luminous Goddess to walk amongst us freely."

Crossing the edge of slightly too much, it was all Padme could do to keep from grimacing. If Dorme were here, she would be groaning right now. "I get the sense that you're a flatterer," she laughed instead. Maybe he was trying too hard and while it was slightly off-putting, but, he was trying to be charming and that was something. Just roll with it, Padme, a voice resembling Dorme's whispered within her mind, have a little fun!

"Perhaps," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "but I hope you believe my words to be true, as I do speak them sincerely, Senator. I should introduce myself," he bowed at the waist gallantly, "Varlo Hedsard, at your service. I believe it was my uncle Vinnis who extended your invitation for this evening."

Oh. He was the nephew of Senator Hedsard of Corellia? She hadn't expected this awkwardly flirtatious gentleman Anakin had thrown toward her to belong to one of the most powerful families in the galaxy! She had never seen him before. "It's wonderful to meet you, Varlo," Padme extended her hand which the Senator's nephew eagerly brought to his mouth. Unlike before, when Anakin's lips had touched her knuckles, her skin was not set aflame. Now there was… nothing.

Perhaps some attractions simply took some time to spark into flames?

Rolling his eyes, Vader downed the generous remainder of his champagne and replaced the cool crystal glass with a full one as a serving droid glided by. The soon to be Emperor glanced around the Hedsard ballroom and hoped the alcohol would take him quickly tonight. If he had to evade one more question on the whereabouts of his bastard father, he would bring this estate down to ash. The sooner the old man's shocking willpower gave out, the sooner he and Anakin could begin living their lives. At twenty-five and bound to the laws Amedda protected with his very life, Vader felt stunted. Left behind. Unaccomplished. He was a man in his prime, meant to lead and find his glorious purpose the way his brother had with the Empire's military.

Vader couldn't do that without his crown.

Just a moment ago, he'd chatted politely with the King and Queen of Naboo, Thule and Falynn Wesseri. A ceremonial position of regency at best, one Vader was always surprised his ancestors had allowed the planet to retain upon the rise of the Empire. He supposed it came from their ancient roots planted and grown within the peaceful utopia of Naboo – even his own father had been born there. It had bred an indulgence he would not sustain. When he came to power, there would be no more false Kings and Queens in his galaxy, only the Imperial throne and the subjects who kneeled before it.

Let the Wesseris enjoy their false reign, for now, the Prince thought as he drained yet another glass, they already had the galaxy's most infamously unhappy marriage to suffer through. He had heard they remained together only to spare themselves the public humiliation of finally separating. And for the children, of course. The added misery of losing what little power the Wesseri dynasty clung to would come another day when the time was right. As usual, Queen Falynn was staggering and slurring her words, pouring champagne after champagne down her throat to suffer through yet another night of political niceties while her husband ignored and grimaced at her behaviour. Well, Vader could relate to the Nubian Queen there at least. All this pomp and revelry was as boring as it was necessary, much like the meetings of the royal council. It was bad enough he'd have to pretend to consider the voice of the Senate in all his decisions – what was an Emperor bound to the conscious of a chaotic, self-serving council?

This time, as a serving droid passed, Vader snatched a glass of Corellian whiskey instead and smiled at people as they bowed and greeted him with respectful good wishes. He kissed the knuckles of famous women and spoke with Senators, socialites and high-ranking members of the banking clan alike. Listened to pitches for charity work, conservation, education, and anti-slavery start-ups and pledged a small fortune to each. It was a bitter thing to admit that he needed these people to like him, at least for now, while his dying father left something of a power vacuum in his wake. The very moment the Imperial crown was placed upon his head, Vader and the Skywalker line would be secure but it was a journey from tonight to a coronation. For now, the young Prince played nice.

He looked through the crowded room for someone he recognised enough to speak to and found the alluring Senator his brother was so enamoured with on the dancefloor with Senator Hedsard's nephew. Vader's eyebrows shot upwards as he watched them move. It was no surprise Amidala caught the man's eye, she was a vision and especially so in that dress. When he'd caught her walking down those stairs, Vader had hardly been able to tear his eyes away. If Anakin wasn't so pitifully in love with the woman, he might have taken a shot himself.

She would be a positive addition to their family should Anakin get over himself enough to make a move. Especially if he could marry her before Vader stripped Naboo of its regency. Having their former Senator wed to the second in line for the throne might soothe the sting of that wound and make the transition easier. The Prince made a mental note to give his twin some further pushing on the matter later.

Speaking of his brother… Vader looked around the ballroom once more to catch a glimpse of Anakin but failed to find him. He could sense his twin's force presence nearby, however. Perhaps he'd been stalled by some crowd or another petitioning for a royal spokesman for their work.

He wondered if Anakin had spotted Padme out there with Hedsard's nephew yet? If he was being honest, the prospect of his brother seeing the beautiful Senator being spun around in Varlo Hedsard's arms was an interesting one. He was curious about how Anakin would respond. Would it merely be a case of glowering jealously or would a competitor finally snap him into action?

Vader hated to admit it was likely the former option.

"Well, well, your majesty…" A familiar voice sent a colliding crash of warm recognition and absolute dread racing through the Prince with alarming power. The glass in his hand almost slipped and tumbled to the floor – and it would have had he not been able to manipulate the force to spare himself the small humiliation. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

Oh, fuck his life.

Logically, Vader had known there was a high probability of running into Obi-wan Kenobi tonight, but he had hoped some miracle of the force might have spared him such a fate. Alas, as the young Prince turned around and painted a smile over his unwilling lips, the auburn-headed Duke of Mandalore stood before him. He truly was cursed, wasn't he?

"Obi-wan!" Vader crossed the small space between him and his old friend, pulling the bearded man into a brief yet stiff hug. They clinked their matching whiskey glasses together even as he grit his teeth. "You're looking well, old man! You need to get off Mandalore more often."

"Or perhaps you should come to Mandalore to visit us more often?" Something playful lit up within the other man's eyes, as if he knew what he was doing, mocking Vader because he understood how impossible such a visit was.

"I don't think that's the best idea," he muttered, "Mandalore being one of the few independent systems outside of the Empire, I don't want to give the impression I support that kind of thing." An awkward beat passed between the two men, tense enough to almost make Vader wince.

Years ago, while Obi-wan had been a soldier in the Imperial military, he was one of the few civilians able to join and keep up with the clones. Sent out by his father on an excursion to tempt the haughty Duchess of Mandalore to sign her regency over the once-warrior state back to the Empire, it had been some of the best and worst weeks of Vader's entire life. It had been all too easy to trip and fall head over heels for Satine Kryze but far more difficult to walk away while Obi-wan remained to pick up the pieces.

Even now, after so much time had passed, Vader had to try not to feel greatly saddened whenever he and Obi-wan's paths crossed, rare as it was. Sometimes, on his better days, he succeeded. "Tell me," he cleared his throat to end the silence which had fallen over them, "how is – "

"Vader Skywalker! A second, more intimately familiar, voice rocked the Prince to his very core. His heart began to thunder in his tightening chest and sweat gathered in his palms from nowhere. How could this get any worse? Suddenly, the tall Duchess of Mandalore appeared by her husband's side dressed in a fashionable off-shoulder, ocean-blue gown with long, draping sleeves. Her long blonde hair had been pulled back into an elaborate updo, for once free of the fresh flowers usually woven through the white strands. A silver headpiece adorned her forehead bearing the crest of her planet proudly upon it which connected to three large feather-shaped opals on either side of her head, an opulent display of the wealth of the woman wearing it. Satine was as stunning as the day he had left her. "I did wonder if I would ever see you again."

"Satine…" Her name spilled from Vader's dry lips before he could stop it, every syllable full of regret and wonder alike. Get a grip of yourself! Obi-wan is right there! The Prince politely reached for the Duchess' palm and laid a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. Suddenly, no time had passed at all. He was a man of twenty all over again, leading a battalion into the very heart of Mandalore on his very first mission without Anakin by his side, so determined to claim victory and glory for the Empire. He remembered dinners and long, enduring conversations where he gave everything and she gave nothing, listening but refusing to yield any ground at all. The Prince saw her private bed chambers in his mind's eye as clearly as if they were standing there now. The music of her laughter. Rumpled sheets. The sound of his name on her lips as she –

Straightening himself, Vader released Satine's hand as though it had singed his skin. "I would never dream of missing such a gathering of great minds and influences. My father asked that Anakin and I attend in his place. He has much to do maintaining the Empire's stability." The careful lie fell gracefully off his tongue after years of practice.

The Duchess laughed her beautiful, haughty laugh, making something in Vader's stomach tighten. "Of course he did. The Emperor never seemed like the sociable kind to me. Though, it seems he makes a habit of sending you in his place, Vader. Hm?" She turned to her husband with a knowing smile, the lucky, unknowing bastard that Obi-wan was. Before she'd made the other man her Duke, Satine had looked at him that way, with the kind of longing only forbidden lovers could understand.

Vader had gone as far as asking her to marry him in the throes of their passion, declaring that he cared nothing for the crown or his role in the Empire. He'd been all too happy to throw it all away and love this woman for the rest of his life. Anakin would be a good Emperor in his place, he had been so sure of it then. It had all been planned out. He would contact his brother with the news so it could be broken to his father after the ceremony so they could not be parted. The rest of the galaxy would find out when the aftermath had settled. They had planned their private ceremony in the palace gardens and Satine had even gotten herself a dress for the occasion.

But Vader couldn't go through with it.

Not for a lack of love – he had loved her passionately, desperately, with every piece of his soul but the call of the Imperial throne was too strong to ignore. The appeal of destiny more irresistible than domestic bliss. Perhaps, in another life, he might have had both, if they had been able to agree on Mandalore's submission to Imperial rule or if he had been able to resist the call of the throne…

All that time ago, Vader had been so caught up in the thrill and rush of love he felt amid their affair that he hadn't noticed Obi-wan's more subtle falling for the Duchess' charms. Kenobi had possessed the strength to stay which Vader had lacked and now, years later and no closer to his reign, Satine and Obi-wan had a family and lived a shared, happy existence. Watching them together was to see a life unlived for the Prince.

Now the beautiful Duchess felt nothing but perhaps fond nostalgia for him.

"Obi," Satine stroked her husband's arm while her free hand patted her stomach, "I think I need to take a seat. The little one is sapping all my energy away this evening."

The little one... a second child…

Force, how lucky they were.

"Of course, my love," Obi-wan grinned at her with such overwhelming affection that Vader had to look away for a moment. "Come, we'll find a place by the window. I hope we'll find each other later, Vader?"

"Until then," he held up his glass in a silent toast, a bitter congratulations to the little family that made him ache with envy. "Enjoy your night," he said.

As soon as the Duke and Duchess turned away, the glass in his hand crumpled and shattered into sharp shards slicing through his palm as the Prince watched them depart.

This was going to be a long, gruelling night.