As the luminous hues of dawn faded into the rich brilliance of morning, Senator Bail Organa stepped inside the great Senate rotunda to begin a long day of meetings and preparation for the session ahead. A seemingly endless current of multispecies foot traffic shuffled along by his side, murmuring in more languages than he could ever count. Along the wide, curving hallway which led to executive offices hung the gleaming proclamation boards, an original idea of Emperor Sidious, which Vader had recently updated with the newest, quickest technologies available within the Empire. Twenty-five boards in total hung to inform passing Senators and staff of the latest news and announcements.

As usual, the Alderaan Senator cast the boards a quick glance as he passed – nothing tended to transpire throughout the night which required his attention without someone reaching out, but his stomach dropped. Bail stared up at the words blasted upon the screens and felt his mouth gape, even as others knocked into his shoulders or stepped on his silver cloak or booted feet in their hurry.

How could it be possible…? Truly, in his darkest moments of fear, the thought had crossed his mind that the lust for power within the royal family might grow thirsty once more, he had spoken to Breha at length, who had always dismissed such fears as impossible and yet… Upon the glowing boards for all to see sat a proud declaration of what he had prayed would never come.

The monarchy of Naboo was illegitimate from now onwards. All the power and sovereignty of King Thule and Queen Falynn were stripped away to be handed into the overfilled hands of Emperor Vader. Bail read the news three more times, wishing that his eyes had misread, that he was merely dreaming and might laugh about this later with Mon in his office. Alas, no, the words remained. Fact. Truth. Deeply frightening.

Shaking himself into movement, Bail rushed through the river of people around him toward the privacy of his own office. Despite Breha's laughter, despite his own incredulity, some small part of him had known this day would come. It had always known someone, one of them, one Skywalker would long for more and he would take it if they did not fight back.

The very moment the Senator was inside his office and the thick doors were slid shut and sealed, Bail hurried across the large room to the wide, full-wall transparisteel window which overlooked Coruscant and altered the privacy settings. Almost at once, the clearness became opaque so that no eyes could see in or out – he could not risk even one wayward glance from the wrong ship or wandering security cam.

Lowering himself heavily into his chair, he quickly opened and began a transmission which was, mercifully, accepted almost immediately. A moment of connection stuttered and then the blue-hued image of a woman in draping, white robes appeared upon the centre of the desk. "Mon," Bail's throat felt tight and dry as he spoke, "Have you seen it? Have you seen what he has done?"

"Yes," The red-headed Senator nodded grimly, "I hadn't thought he would ever grow so bold…"

"We all prayed the Senate and royal Council would keep a tight leash on Vader's power but he grows audacious," Bail shook his head, "I fear this is only the first step in a path which shall lead to the ending of even the Senate if it is allowed to continue." What would remain? A galaxy beholden to the whims and fancies of a temperamental man? Unthinkable!

"The time for talking and thinking has passed," Mon declared, "We must return to doing. I shall speak with the others and perhaps it will be possible to rally more to our cause. More support and further funding will become necessary in the days to come if we are to put up a worthy fight."

"Yes, I agree," He nodded, "but we must tread carefully. If we are discovered, the consequences will be dire at best." If he were arrested and branded a traitor, convicted of all the Rebel Alliance had achieved, death would be guaranteed. It was not his own life that Bail worried for, but his wife, his family, his people – would they too be punished? "Who do you have in mind?" He asked.

"Well… I had a thought and there will be great risks, but should we be successful, the advantages will be untold," Mon said, "Before her marriage, she was a true and loyal friend to us and spoke out against Emperor Sidious regularly. I believe Padme could be a great asset to our cause."

"Padme?!" Bail cried, eyebrows raising to his hairline. Surely Mon had lost her mind? She could not believe even for one moment this could ever be a good idea. "Padme Amidala? Forgive me, Padme Amidala Skywalker? Wife of the Supreme Commander who has spent years hunting our organisation and cutting down those who fight for us? Mon, this is madness!"

"Padme is extremely intelligent, principled, articulate and beloved of the people," Mon's blue-tinted face remained impassive, "She has always been bold and passionate about her beliefs even if it meant going against Emperor Sidious… and now, Vader has just dealt a great blow to her homeworld. I believe she will stand with us."

"Padme is all of those things," Bail agreed, "she is righteous and good-hearted… but she is also the mother of the second heir to the throne. Do you think she would see her daughter's birthright stripped?"

"Perhaps there is a path of compromise we can explore? Perhaps we do not need to be rid of the House of Skywalker… only Vader. Think about it, Bail – if Anakin could be placed on the throne, guided by Padme with our ideals, there might be a future where our Republic might rise in peace instead of war."

The Senate was in chaos. Representatives from nearly every core world were practically beating at his office door every morning to secure an appointment to plead their case – everyone was afraid that their world was next. As they should be. But Vader had never been more grateful for the Imperial guards stationed outside every room at his disposal, it made slipping away from the throng a much easier endeavour.

He usually ignored what the media had to say about him and his choices – he was the Emperor, other people's opinions meant nothing to him. Vader simply knew better, his plans were years in the making and he'd thought of everything long before he even had his crown. But this time, the outcries were violent and loud enough to draw his attention. Worlds upon worlds were condemning Naboo's treatment. Threats of withdrawing from the Empire altogether were hissing – as if he'd ever let that happen.

But even Vader could admit this had become something of a public relations nightmare. Sabe seemed… overwhelmed. She usually knew exactly what would bend his people's favour back into something more positive, but this time his friend seemed defeated. This was beyond a public appearance or a night out with Arievel by his side. It would all die down eventually, he was sure, but the meantime wasn't a pleasant place to be.

Not to mention, he could only imagine the implosion recent events had created in his personal life too… but he'd been denied a chance to find out for himself at every turn. His office requested meetings with the Naboo delegation and were denied. Denied. He was their force-damned Emperor and they dared to deny him. Sooner than later, he'd have that squealing Senator dragged before him to answer for his insolence, but Vader had more important matters on his mind right now.

Since going through the proper channels seemed like a waste of everybody's time, he was pushed toward more… deceptive overturns. If his office would be denied a meeting with Thule's, that meant the former King's local, and oh so upset with him, Councillor wouldn't be sent to the palace to speak with him. From what little he'd heard from Anakin these past few days, it seemed like the news had been taken… badly. And that was putting it lightly. But if Padme would only speak to him, he could make her see his reasoning! She would come to understand things the way he did! He knew he could make her understand, he only needed a chance.

So, if one of his aides made a request in the name of Senator Organa, requesting Padme come to the Senate building to meet with him, who was to blame? Certainly not Vader. What harm was it if she found herself alone with him instead? They needed to talk and if he had to force her hand, so be it. She'd thank him for it one day.

So he waited, haunting the Senate in the shadows, like a beast of night lurking as it hunted its prey. Many flounced passed, unaware of their Emperor's presence, but the only person Vader cared about was nearing and he was primed for the perfect catch. He'd only have one shot, but he was absolutely confident in his ability to drag Padme Skywalker into the disused office behind him with minimal fuss.

What happened after that through… That's where Vader's confidence wavered.

A moment later, his every sense tingled, promising Padme's proximity and he readied himself for battle. The Emperor pulled in a deep, lung-filling breath and steadied himself, focusing his senses on one force signature alone as it drew close, closer and at last, close enough. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, locked on his target.

Padme walked with purpose through the long hallway, unaware of the watchful predator waiting for her in the dark, mercifully, she was without her usual accompaniment of handmaidens. Her deep crimson dress clung to her frame with every graceful step, the fabric catching the light like molten fire. Vader licked his lips. The high neckline framed her elegant posture while the long sleeves hugged her arms. She walked elegantly, her hands tucked neatly in front of her, as though shielding herself from unseen threats… If only she knew. The faint click of her heels against the marble echoed like a countdown, each step drawing her closer to the inevitable. To him.

Hot, searing desire twisted low in Vader's chest, not just for her touch – though that ache was as ever undeniable – but for her understanding. For her agreement. She had to see it. She had to see him. How could she not? His every move, every calculated action was for the betterment of the galaxy. For them. For her. For the future the three of them could build together if she would only listen.

Her scent reached Vader before she did, a soft, familiar blend of flowers and something warm, something so intimately hers. He grit his teeth, every inch of him taut with control. One breath longer, one step closer… She passed him, utterly oblivious, and he struck.

His hands shot out from the shadows, brushing the warmth of Padme's arm as he pulled her swiftly, silently, into the darkness with him. Her sharp gasp was silenced into his palm as it cupped her mouth, holding steady even as she fought, kicking and lashing out against his strength. She was strong – stronger than she looked, and Vader had to battle to keep her locked in his arms.

Her sharp, manicured nails clawed into his hands, his wrists, and a hot stinging seared his skin. The Emperor hissed as he backed them further into the darkness, hauling her slight weight with him, back, back until at last the unlocked door hit his back. The very moment the doors slid open enough to receive them, Vader released her into the wide, private space, bracing himself for her fury.

He knew her adrenaline was surging, her innate survival instinct screaming to fight to the death to keep herself safe, so he lingered by the closing doorway, allowing her the space she needed to calm down. Her beautiful eyes widened at the source of her abduction and he sensed the outrage pouring out of her force signature.

Perhaps this wasn't the best way to start things off…

"Padme…" Vader dared a step forward but withdrew as she lunged forward, her pretty, pointed-toe heels delivering a swift and needlessly brutal kick right into his unprepared shin. "Ow – fuck!" He hissed. "That was unnecessary!"

"And dragging me in here like that was?" She spat, furiously, "How dare you think you can do that to me?!"

Damn, that had hurt – what the hell kind of shoes was she wearing? It wouldn't be very regal of him to rub the throbbing spot on his shin, but force Vader was tempted. Maybe there were other, less invasive ways to begin their negotiations but what choice did she leave him? "I have requested to meet with you six times – your handmaidens have refused on your behalf every time."

"As per my instructions," Padme fixed him with a sharp, disarming glare… Force, was she truly that angry with him? Vader swallowed, mind spinning for the correct way to say what he wanted, trying to find the exactly right combination of words she needed to hear from him. Suddenly, the task felt insurmountable, like he'd been dropped at the base of a soaring mountain with no supplies or equipment. "I don't want to speak to you, Vader. I can barely stand to look at you right now. Now let me pass."

She wanted out – to leave him before he'd even had a chance to explain himself. No! Unthinkable! "Padme," he began, his voice as sharp and steady as he could make it, "You have to give me a chance to explain myself. You've been avoiding me. I – I things I need to say."

"I wonder why?" She snapped, her voice as cold as ice. She stood firm, her chin high and folded her arms, the very picture of defiance. "I have no interest in hearing more of your lies. Or Anakin's. So let me out. Now!"

"You're angry. Fine," He had no intention of releasing her quite yet. Not until she heard him out. "But this sulking is beneath you. You don't understand the good this will bring – not just to the Empire, but to Naboo!"

Her answering laugh was bitter, cutting through the stillness of the room like his lightsaber. "Good? Is that what you call stripping my homeworld of its independence? Of our ancestral traditions? You've turned my home into yet another pawn for your Empire!" Her voice cracked, the betrayal in her voice like a blade twisting in his chest. "You lied to me! You both lied to me!"

"It was necessary," Vader began, his tone growing defensive now faster than he could help it. "Anakin and I agreed – "

"Oh, Anakin agreed?" Padme snapped, her voice rising. "My husband agreed to stab me in the back alongside his power-hungry brother? How surprising." Such fury bled into her pained expression and Vader felt his own breath catch. "Do you even have any idea what you've done? What you've destroyed?"

He stiffened, his golden eyes narrowing. He'd heard that insult thrown at him more times than he could count for as long as he could remember, but not from her. Never from Padme… She understood him! She saw the greatness he was going to bring to the galaxy! Didn't she? "I am not power-hungry!" He growled. "This was for the best. You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Just give me a chance to – "

"My emotions?" She spat that word back at him, her eyes blazing dangerously. "You think this is about my emotions? This is about betrayal! About you taking everything Naboo stands for and tearing it apart! About you ruining my reputation and everything I've ever worked for, Vader! This… This is about you becoming exactly like your father!"

All the breath in his body rushed out of him at once. Vader felt those words hit him like a lightsaber through the heart. Padme, more than anyone in this galaxy, knew what those words truly meant and the damage they could inflict. He felt his eyes widen as his throat tightened traitorously. How could she say that to him? "I am nothing like him!" He growled.

"Don't you see," Padme shook her head, tears gleaming in her wounded eyes, "You're exactly like him." Despite the hurt he sensed, Vader was overwhelmed by the fervour of her rage, the deepness of its roots. How had he lost control of this conversation so damn quickly? She was mere inches away yet a whole universe from his grasp. "You're arrogant. Manipulative. Obsessed with control. I had so much faith in you and you've twisted the Empire into your playground and you couldn't care less about who you hurt so long as you get whatever it is you want!"

He was breathless with hurt. She didn't truly believe that… did she? Vader's whole galaxy began to spin off-balance. He was losing his grip faster than he could stand. "Padme, please…"

"I thought I knew you," her voice cracked painfully, her face crumpling with such upset, his own heart began to bleed. "But I don't, I don't know you anymore…"

The small shake of her head brought Vader more pain than he imagined possible. Her tears were his own whether they showed or not. He'd do anything to hold her, to chase all her bad thoughts and feelings away until she was happy again. He would do anything to make her happy again… but how could he when she was so stubbornly determined to be against him? He was powerless.

"You do know me," Vader reached for her, but Padme flinched back beyond his reach. "You know me more than anyone in this galaxy, I think."

She said nothing, only whimpered and covered her face in her hands, stepping further into the dusty office. Every inch of new space between them flayed Vader but he remained stone in place, unmovable, allowing her some separation even if the chasm between them was unbearable. She had to understand eventually, she had to!

"I don't have a job," Padme said at last, turning around to look at him and such hopelessness controlled her heartbreaking expression, he didn't know what to do anymore. "My own people hate me. No one will believe I had nothing to do with this. I… I feel so alone." Fresh tears slid down her pale, pale cheeks and Vader's fingers twitched. No… She needed the room between them right now.

"You aren't alone," he shook his head desperately, "I'm here… Anakin is – "

"Don't!" Padme roared, her glare so furious that he staggered back a step. "Don't even think about finishing that sentence! You aren't here for me, neither of you are… If you were, you wouldn't have done this to me…" A deep, uneven breath fled her lungs and into the room between them. "I'll never forgive you. Either of you."

That declaration, so final, so absolute… gutted the Emperor to his very core. All the things he'd planned to say simply vanished from his mind. His heart raced in blind panic as he fumbled for something, anything that might fix this. "You don't mean that," he said, his voice faltering. "You can't mean that…"

"But I do," she said, her voice broken but unwavering.

Vader stepped forward, desperation creeping into his tone as he crossed the boundary between them. "Just listen to me, please – "

"I'm done listening to you," Padme said, her voice cold and final. "To your lies. To your excuses. I'm finished with all of it. From now on, you and I are strangers to each other, Vader. We're not friends. We're not… anything we once were. That's over with for good." Vader reached for her again, but she stepped free of his urgent grasp, shaking her head. His arm hung in the air between them, empty, useless. He was desolate. The mere thought of Padme completely withdrawing from his life was like a wound pierced through his very heart and soul, one that would never, ever heal without her kindness, without her radiant smile directed at him, it would tear at him forever. "Goodbye, Vader," she said softly, those two words more painful than any attack his father ever dealt, any battle scar or betrayal.

Padme shoved past him and stormed toward the door, leaving Vader rooted in place. Paralysed. Stuck. Utterly afraid. For the first time in years, he felt truly hopeless.

"Padme!" He called after her, his voice breaking. " Please don't – "

But she didn't stop. The door hissed open and she was gone, leaving Vader alone in the cavernous room as the whole galaxy closed in around him. He stood there, the weight of her words sinking in and for all his power, all his control, he felt something he hadn't felt in years.

Fear.

Fear of what he may have just lost forever.

Hours Later.

Two silent, red-robed guards flanked the arched doorway to the royal box at the Galaxies Opera House. The Royal box was small, housing only a handful of seats, and boasted the best view in the whole building, every detail meticulously arranged to impress and intimidate. Vader often used a performance here to entertain visiting dignitaries or show favour amongst Senators or Moffs he wished to reward, but he rarely attended for his own pleasure. Satine enjoyed their visits, but the media backlash to such public outings was increasingly worse so they hadn't come in some time.

When he was able to relax and enjoy himself, a night at the opera was a fantastic way to spend the evening. Velvet-draped seats rose in graceful tiers, filled with the galaxy's elite, while the central stage glowed in shifting hues, casting a spectral light across the dark, cavernous space.

Beside Vader, Arievel was an angelic vision in white, her dress a flawless cascade of silken fabric that flowed around her like a river of moonlight. She truly looked the part of an Empress this evening, splendid in the riches of his Empire. The dress itself was simple in its elegance yet intricately detailed, with threads of silver embroidery tracing delicate, celestial patterns along the bodice and sleeves, shimmering softly with her every movement as she delicately sipped at her drink.

Atop her head, she wore a silver headpiece, a masterwork of artistry that arched gracefully across her brow, studded with jewels that caught the light and threw it back in a spectrum of colour. Draped from the headpiece was a delicate black, netted veil covering the right half of her face, its lacework studded with minute, glittering gems, catching stray beams of light and casting faint, twinkling reflections.

She was undeniably beautiful, he sensed many around him desire her whenever they made an appearance together. A small, quiet part of Vader wished he wasn't so… distracted. Maybe he might have had the capacity to be open with her the way she wanted, maybe they might have found something worthy of building together. But his thoughts and desires would always belong elsewhere.

He was sure the holo-net news and other media outlets would be ablaze for days about their presence here this evening, no doubt lavishing praise upon their beloved Empress – exactly what Sabe needed right now. He loathed to admit it, but his relationship with Satine and the handling of Naboo had dealt incredible damage to his reputation and with the changes he was making, it would be best that his people felt more favourably toward him right now.

Being here tonight meant good things for his public approval and promised a fit of hysterical jealousy upon returning to Satine whose insecure eyes will have poured over every image and recording of him and Arievel available. Force, he was so tired… After his disastrous meeting with Padme, he'd spent most of the day plunged inside the soothing coolness of his bacta tank as the aches and pains rattling across his skin grew unbearable.

All in all, this had been a miserable force-damned day.

Glancing at his wife, Vader found Arievel's eyes gazing at the opal colourings of the great ballet orb before them. Soft strums of music filtered across the room as a story unfolded before them. Despite the majesty of the performance, he couldn't concentrate on it. Or on much of anything lately. Quiet discontent brewed constantly inside him no matter what he tried to distract himself with.

It was disappointing to admit, even in the solitude of his own mind, that the enjoyment he'd found with Satine had dulled. Their time together had become a chore Vader forced on himself less and less, which only destabilised things further. A twinge of guilt picked at him for all Satine sacrificed to be here and the strife she was going to face upon returning to Mandalore, but he just wasn't happy. He felt lost and unguided, even as his long-laid plans were finally coming to fruition. He wanted more. Needed it… and something was missing, something he was losing patience waiting for.

Completely unaware of today's crushing blows, Sabe informed him that Anakin and Padme had been invited to join him and Arievel this evening – an opportunity to smooth over the recent storm that Naboo's new status created, but as the opera unfolded, Vader was all too aware of the empty seats beside him. He knew they were still fighting, that Anakin and Padme's rift had only widened. She was wrong about him. What he'd done was necessary, she would see that soon enough. Naboo was going to thrive under direct Imperial governance, its people safeguarded by his rule and flourishing with better trade and employment opportunities. Still, the decision had fractured something between Padme and his brother, a divide Vader imagined ran deep if her fury today was anything to go on.

Desperate fool that he was, the Emperor had allowed himself to believe, to hope, that she might relent and attend tonight. He knew how much Padme loved the opera, it was one of the shared passions they bonded over so long ago. If Vader narrowed his eyes, he could almost see her sitting here beside him, her beautiful face soft with delight as she lost herself and her anger in the music flowing around them.

Vader bet she would have her hands folded in her lap, leaning forward with that particular tilt of her head, completely captivated by the performance. Would she think this rendition of the classic story was improved or would she prefer the original? He longed to hear her opinions, for the chance to make her laugh as they compared their thoughts. But now… now, she was likely somewhere in that apartment not too far away, torn between her anger and heartbreak, unable to forgive either of them.

At his side, Arievel shifted slightly, drawing his attention once more. She glanced over at him, her expression as composed as ever, though there was a hint of something beneath her calm exterior. Something Vader just didn't have the energy to think about right now. "Do you have any news for me?" He asked, allowing a flicker of hope to bloom. If she had finally conceived then everything could be different. His legacy would be secure at last. He would command celebrations on every planet within the Empire's reach! He watched her with bated breath, waiting, hoping as his wife's pale throat bobbed with a thick swallow.

"I…" She hesitated and the flames of his premature elation were doused by the ice-water of reality. "I'm sorry, Vader," Arievel shook her head, "I'm doing everything the doctors have recommended, I swear! We just need a little more time, that's all."

Vader felt his mouth compress into a bitter line as he reached for his fire-whiskey and brought the cool, crystal glass to his mouth to calm the fury climbing his throat. Another wasted month. Yet another failure. Why? Why would the force choose him to rule and grant him its powers only to deny him what normal men found easy?

It was unfair! Anakin had a child! He almost had two of them! Why couldn't he have what his brother got to? "Tell me," Vader's voice lowered to a growl as the overwhelming disappointment of today's events boiled inside him. "How many children does your oldest sister again?" He knew he was lashing out at the wrong person, but force-damn it, he was so angry. Too angry to calm himself down.

"That isn't fair," Arievel's answer was thick with upset, "Pailia has been married for five years now." She turned to him to argue further and whimpered, shrinking away from whatever she found in his expression. "It's not all my fault!" She said, "You have as much blame as me in this!"

"Blame?" Vader barked a humourless laugh, "I've given you everything you've ever asked of me. I have upheld my end of our agreement, but you haven't." A deeply frustrated sound burst out of his lips just as the music surrounding them reached some crescendo. "It only took Anakin and Padme three months of trying to conceive Leia, you know," he spat bitterly.

Some part of him understood the unfairness of his anger… but he just couldn't stop. If Padme thought he was a power-hungry monster, so be it. He'd be exactly what she wanted even if she wasn't here to see it.

Vader sensed the fracture of Arievel's control as it splintered and then shattered with a short sniffle. A fierce glare painted her pale face even as tears bathed her wide eyes. "Well then perhaps Anakin should sit in your place instead!" She hissed.

Her perfectly calculated blow reached its mark impeccably. Vader felt himself flinch before he could control his features into hiding the quiet fury which burst to life within him. The darkness curled around his soul longed to punish her, to make her regret such blatant disrespect but he swallowed the razor edge of his rage and glared outwards toward the performance instead.

"Be careful," he grit out, "because sooner than later, another may sit in yours, Arievel."

After the performance finally crawled to an end, Vader was forced to meet with the entire company of performers and musicians and congratulate their talents, something Arievel, despite the upset and rage swirling within her force signature, excelled in. By the time their driver had returned them to the palace, it felt like a great effort to lift his feet at all.

The royal couple separated without a word, marching in separate directions as a small fleet of handmaidens escorted Arievel to the royal wing while Vader headed toward a more modest, still highly luxurious apartment of rooms on the opposite side of the building. If the force was kind, Satine would already be asleep and he could join her, forgetting all about this awful day.

Unfortunately for him, every single aspect of his life seemed to be cursed with bad luck.

The blonde Duchess sat slumped by the wide vanity near the window, removing her cosmetics. Her icy eyes found his through the mirror as Vader approached and laid his hands upon her slim shoulders through the thin, green robe she wore.

"What're you still doing up?" He raised a curious eyebrow, "It's late. I'd thought you would be asleep by now." Only then did his eyes catch the wine-stained glass on the corner of the table… and three empty bottles. Vader's nose crinkled in distaste as he took in the drunken flush of her usually pale cheeks and the glaze which had dulled her eyes. So it was going to be one of those nights then. "Satine," he sighed, "you know I hate seeing you this way."

"Yes… How rude of me! Whatever was I thinking? How dare I try to enjoy myself for once!" Satine rolled her eyes, slurring nearly every word she spoke. Vader felt himself beginning to fume. Why would this damned day never end? "Did…" her slim lips struggled to form the words her inebriated mind desired, "did she go with you? Hm? Did she like the show?"

"You know she did," Vader sighed again, withdrawing his arms and beginning to unclasp the silver chain which held his cloak to his body. He knew where those questions usually led and he just didn't have the energy tonight. "You know Sabe asked Arievel and I to make a public appearance together. It was for the media's sake, we talked about it. She didn't want to be there any more than I did."

"Yes, yes," she waved an overly loosened arm and accidentally knocked into several expensive pots of cosmetics, sending them crashing into the carpeted floor below with a small cry. Sadly, the distraction did not keep her focus from him for long. "Any opportunity to show off your young, beautiful Empress… I understand. Gods forbid anyone forgets that she's your wife!"

Vader did not want to admit the truth of that may not be the case much longer. After their argument this evening, he didn't know how much longer he was willing to wait, his patience was rapidly running out with Arievel. As it was with the Duchess before him. "You're being nonsensical, Satine, you know you are," he said coolly, perching on the edge of the bed to undo his boots.

Their eyes met once more in the oval glass of the mirror. Vader saw her lip begin to tremble and fought not to grimace as Satine climbed unsteadily to her feet, wobbling and tripping as she staggered to her own side of the bed. "They call me 'The Duchess of Disgrace' y'know!" A barely stifled sob fled her trembling lips, "The Emperor's whore… You take her out and show her a good ol' time and I'll just wait right here, ready to spread my legs whenever you desire, my liege…"

"An ironic title," Vader seethed, "for someone who doesn't seem to do a lot of whoring these days." They hadn't had sex in over a month… he was beginning to forget the last time he had even desired to. It wasn't supposed to be so damned difficult all the time, surely?

"No, no, no," Satine crawled across the bed just as Vader rose to peel off his tunic and replace it with a light sleep shirt instead. "You're right. You are perfectly correct!" An angry little giggle burst out of her mouth, "But that's 'cus you want someone else in your bed…" A single, accusatory finger pointed his way and he rolled his eyes. How many times could they repeat this fight? There were no new ways to reassure her.

"I don't have the energy to have this conversation yet again, Satine," he groaned, rubbing a hand across his face, "Arievel and I – "

Another bitter laugh poured into the thick air between them as the Duchess shook her head. "No, not her…" Slowly, she reached out, clutching at Vader's wrist to tug him forward, toward her side of the bed where she knelt and leaned up so that her lips threatened his own as she urged him to bend low. "If Anakin ever finds out how you think about his wife… he'll kill you, my love…"

Vader wrenched his wrist free of her grasp with a growl. Force damn it! Once! One time his control had slipped – his mind had wandered during sex and she could never let it go. Padme's name had slipped out of his mouth, stilling the Duchess where she rode him as the shock melted into screaming fury. Ever since that night, his life had been a series of carefully laid plans to ensure his brother and lover never crossed paths. Satine couldn't be trusted to be quiet.

"I'm beginning to think you might relish the opportunity to see Anakin do just that."

"Oh, but what would the galaxy do without the mighty Emperor Vader? Hm? Who else is going to tear down monarchies and covet what belongs to his own brother?" Satine's laugh was crazed. She ran a hand through her blonde tresses, only further musing them even as she tried to pat them down. "Do you think she's more beautiful than me, is that it?"

He was so tired. Vader didn't have the energy to lie and soothe her any more. "Padme carries herself with purpose and dignity. I admire that."

Tears filled her eyes again. "I – I had those too… You took them away from me!"

Vader reached out and grabbed the footboard as his deep frustration and growing resentment began to get the better of him. "I never asked you to leave, Obi-Wan, Satine!" He hissed, "You made that choice all on your own! And right now, I'm beginning to wish you hadn't!"

Unable to stand this a moment longer, he lunged for the door, slamming his fist down upon the opening pad so harshly a small burst of pain spread through his flesh. Behind him, a small, pitiful wail filled the Emperor's ears and he felt his shoulders slump. The door began to slide open, but Vader turned his back and returned inside.

Who was he becoming? Since when was he the man who made three women cry in one night?

"I'm sorry," he eased himself down onto the bed beside the sobbing Duchess and began to stroke her back, "I didn't mean that. Today has been… long and tiring. I shouldn't have taken out on you."

After a few moments, Satine gingerly raised her watery eyes to his. "Tell me the truth, Vader… You don't love me anymore, do you?"

He wanted to kiss her worries away. To hold her in his arms until such a question never left her lips again. But Vader could not muster the words. The quiet plea in Satine's beautiful eyes was not for reassurance, but the truth she had asked him for and it was not something he'd been fully ready to face yet. He looked down at his free hand, swallowing as he battled for the words, the right words to explain…

"I'm sorry," he sighed at last, shaking his head, still not brave enough to meet her eyes. "But I…perhaps it would be for the best if you returned to Mandalore. Reuniting with your children will help you feel better, I think."

Vader did not want to think of the political nightmare he was sending her into. With Mandalore's independence intact, he was powerless to help her.

A small, pained whimper fled her lips. "Leave me be, Vader," Satine whispered, "Please, I want to be alone."

Three Days Later.

The effortless, regal grace of tall, yellow-brick walls and twin spiralling pillars of pale Nubian-marble pillars greeted Anakin and Padme upon their slight ascent to the peak of stairs leading to the home owned by Sola and Darred. With a momentary view of the building's face, she stole a small moment to gaze upon the much-longed-for refurbishments her sister and brother-in-law had added to the house. New, bright blossom bushes lined the curving balcony overlooking the streets below, a perfect shade match for the wildflowers hanging from the doorway. An intricate pattern of brilliant, glossy mosaic had been added to the outer courtyard leading into the ancient fountain.

The marital home of Sola and Darred had once been her childhood house, too large to upkeep for their ageing parents once both their children had begun their own lives outside the family household, it had been offered as Sola's wedding present and gratefully accepted. Even now, with vastly different décor and colourings, Padme felt so at home being here whenever she found time to visit her sister. Every room, window and wall carried such fond memories of simpler, easier times from the rosy days of childhood. Bedrooms the Naberrie sisters had giggled and whispered within long past bedtime, burying their father deep within the soft sand of the lake just beyond the gardens, picnics in the meadow, swimming with their friends…

Sparing a glance toward her silent husband, Padme felt all the fondness seep out of her body at once.

Upon hearing of everything that had happened, Sola and Darred had kindly offered to take Leia for the night to allow Padme and Anakin to attempt to talk through the deep issues wounding their marriage. After a long night of shouting and even some tears, nothing had been repaired. Facing King Thule yesterday had been a humbling and deeply humiliating experience she feared would haunt her memories for years to come. Almost a decade of trust had been torn to shreds as her leader suspected betrayal borne within her very marriage.

How would her people ever forgive her? They were being stripped of their independence without their desire or support. The royalty of Naboo was an ancient and important tradition which had lasted as long as history itself… and it was being destroyed by a family she, their once Senator, had married into. By a man she cared about greatly and assisted by the man she loved. Padme was entangled deeply within every inch of this mess, there was no way to extract herself and silence the unavoidable whispers against her name.

She was tainted… because she loved a man who steadfastly supported his brother's every whim and decision. Tears threatened her eyes even now, angry, bitter tears which would sear scars so deeply into her cheeks that she could never forget this disaster.

"Padme…" Anakin's soft breath of her name tore the soon-to-be former former-Councillor free from her sharp thoughts. Despite the deep longing which ached inside Padme's heart, she just couldn't bring herself to look at him. Anakin's face was Vader's. Their choices were united. Her husband may not have wielded the blade Vader plunged into her homeworld, but he had watched on as it happened and prevented others from stopping it. Padme felt her throat begin to thicken and close, blocking the hope of any words leaving her lips for a moment. She had to restrain herself – her daughter was just inside and Leia didn't need to see her parents at war with one another. Children should always be innocent of such things no matter the circumstances. "So, you won't speak to me at all now?" Anakin sighed, "Really?"

Padme closed her eyes as a thousand arguments rose into her mouth, harsh words that would only worsen everything and she was tired, so bone-achingly tired, of fighting. Maybe they should have stayed home another day and let Leia remain in the peace of Sola's home a little longer? There was certainly more to be said between them and the quiet, simmering resentment storming inside her husband's eyes told her that he knew it too.

"I'm worried that if I speak what's in my mind now, Anakin, I will regret it later," Padme rubbed her fingers across her forehead. The usually weightless headband of deep violet leather pressed down heavily into her skull. A deep, relentless ache was beginning to form behind her eyes and all she wanted in the galaxy right now was to see her child. "Let's just go inside, get Leia and we can discuss everything later."

"What more is there to discuss?" Anakin's voice lowered to a growl, "It's done, Padme, you need to accept it so we can move on!"

"I won't!" Padme's cowled cloak whirled around behind her as she spun to fix her husband with a firm glare. "Not ever! I will never stop fighting Vader on this. He has no right to do such things and yet he ignores legalities to take whatever it is he desires. Do you really think Thule would allow Naboo to lose its monarchy if he weren't threatened with the Death Star? It isn't right!"

"These are thoughts I would expect to hear from a Rebel, not my wife," Anakin hissed, narrowing his eyes as his towering frame drew closer to her own. "Vader is right – there are too many voices muddying the waters. He is Emperor, Naboo doesn't need a King pretending to rule too."

"If this is how you and he have begun to think, then I am deeply afraid, Anakin." Padme shook her head slowly. Vader was always supposed to be a new ray of light to break up the immense cloud of darkness Sidious had cast upon them all, but his recent choices were echoed with the voice of his father. She never thought it could come to this. "You're scaring me, Anakin. People are whispering that Vader will come for the Senate next and I never believed them before, but now…? I don't know what to think."

"The Senate?" He huffed with a fierce roll of his eyes. "Most of it is made up of self-serving fools who should fear for their jobs. You served in the Senate, you know what those people are like – do you really think they should be running the galaxy instead of Vader?"

"I – "

"Leia! Leia, look who's here!"

The peaceful, happy voice of Sola Naberrie cut off his wife's words before Padme could speak them. Some small part of Anakin raged silently at the elder Naberrie sister, even as she excitedly guided his beloved child outside into the sunny courtyard of her home. Another was endlessly grateful he didn't have to hear what she might have said. Some things couldn't be taken back.

"Dada! Leia squealed with such childish joy, that it was impossible to favour his storming emotions over the sweet excitement of his favourite girl racing toward him. "Dada! Mama! Mama!" Sola released Leia's tiny hand as she raced out of the Naberrie threshold where Padme caught her slight weight first, listing their daughter up into her arms.

"Oh, my darling!" His wife laughed, dusting gentle kisses across Leia's smiling face, "Did you have fun with Auntie Sola and Uncle Darred? Did you?" As the girl gave a big nod, Padme's smile only grew, "Do you want to see daddy? Of course, you do."

Leia all but flung her little body in Anakin's direction and his waiting arms were all too happy to catch her, swinging his girl around in a small circle that made her squeal all over again. He hugged her close, savouring her presence against him. She had only been gone one day but, force, how he had missed her! The house felt quiet and empty without the sounds of Leia's play or short legs tearing through the rooms.

Then again, the shouting had filled the quiet just fine without Leia's help.

"How has she been?" Anakin heard Padme ask as he resettled Leia more carefully in his arms. "I hope this hasn't been too much trouble for you and Darred."

"Not at all You know how much we love to have her!" Sola waved her hand dismissively, though the Prince did not miss how the elder Naberrie sister avoided his eye, focusing her attention exclusively on Padme as if he were a stranger lingering unwelcomed upon her doorway. Vader's decisions about Thule had come so quickly, that Anakin had been forced to think as the Supreme Commander, not a man married into a passionately Nubian family. He had been so focused on Padme's reaction, on dousing the blaze of her fury that he had not considered how the others might feel about it. About him.

At last, Sola's dark eyes dragged themselves to glance at Anakin for a moment and he sensed an intensely focused distaste rise within his sister-in-law and though it only lasted for a moment, the sensation was gutting. "I have some news – well, Darred and I do, actually," she began to smile as the sisters locked eyes once more. A bright pulse of excitement quickened within Sola's force signature along with… something. Something new. Different.

A breathless understanding began to dawn upon Anakin as his curious eyes shifted lower on the other woman's body, searching, hoping to find his suspicions were true. "What is it?" Padme asked though Sola's force signature throbbed burst sparks of bright white light like flashing stars all around them. Even without the force, he was sure he would sense it! How could she not see it for herself?

"Padme," Sola gave a quiet sniffle as a veil of tears filled her wide eyes, "I can't believe this day has finally come – we had begun to lose hope that it would ever happen for us… and yet… I'm pregnant!"

As the sisters screamed and embraced, Anakin held Leia close and tried to ignore the hot flash of emotion surging through him.

Something that felt frighteningly similar to regret.