"I understand why everybody is so upset, believe me," Padme sighed as she glanced around the others who had gathered inside the living room of Bail's Coruscant apartment. "I never anticipated Vader would let his ambitions lead him down this path… and though I am incandescently furious with him, I have known him for a long time. I… I can't let myself believe that he will dismantle the Senate." Nobody seemed moved by her words and she couldn't blame them. Fear was in the air. Vader's actions had shattered what little trust had been built since he took the throne.
"If systems are stripped one by one of their independent powers and inner control over themselves then, functionally, the Senate will cease to exist anyway," Mon shook her head, "If the act is done slowly enough, I expect he believes no one will think to question him until it is too late, and if any do, they will be silenced by fear of the Death Star."
Padme glanced around the grim faces within the room and knew they believed Mon. Anakin had promised Vader only intended the Death Star to function as a defence against those who desired to tear the Empire apart. He swore its only purpose would be to protect, never to destroy, yet he and Vader were making a habit of breaking their promises. What good was either of their word if they were going to change their mind later? After all, they had used the Death Star to threaten and plunder her homeworld without consequence.
No one would meet her eye as she silently pleaded for vocal aid, for someone to reassure her that Mon was wrong and they were all overreacting. Padme was so tired. Tired of being furious. She was tired of drawn-out silences in her home in the rare moments she wasn't fighting with Anakin. She was tired of sleeping with her back to her husband, of pretending he didn't exist when they weren't parenting Leia. But no such voice rose and in her heart, she knew her friend was right, though her heart wept to admit it. A powerless Senate was a room full of adults playacting for Vader's benefit. The only reason he would begin the slow process of stripping worlds of their independent monarchies was to assert total and unquestioned control over the galaxy, silencing all voices but his own.
Who was he becoming? Her heart was breaking and Padme didn't know how to stop it or how to make him see he was going too far down this path to ever come back. She supposed she would have to have a calm and constructive conversation with the Emperor to make that point, but that simply wasn't possible right now.
"I have it on very good authority that the Emperor has already begun to bleed powers from minor governances. Soon, everyone will answer to Vader alone. There will be no one to question him. Not even the royal Council will have the authority to reign him in," Bail rubbed a hand across his exhausted face. "That is if there are any who are not in his pocket already."
All this talk made Padme squirm uncomfortably in her seat. It had been years since she belonged in a meeting like this one. If Anakin or Vader ever found out she overheard such things – or that she partook… In their ears, these conversations would be pure treason and she was afraid they'd never forgive her. Vader was her husband's brother. Her daughter's uncle. He was someone she looked to for friendship, for understanding, support and… and desire. She knew he was a good person being lured down the wrong path but if there was a way to call him back, she didn't know it.
But something had to be done. An Emperor didn't have to be a dictator – the system had seen to that! The powers of individual monarchies, the royal Council and Senate were in place to ensure that while Vader led the galaxy, he was not unquestioned. If he was attempting to dismantle the system, it couldn't be allowed to happen. The woman she once was, long before her relationship with Anakin, would have stood and fought to her dying breath against Vader on this no matter the costs.
Was she still that woman? Could she be?
"All of this talking is one thing," Senator Giddean Danu shook his head, "but what can actually be done? Truly? Vader has a weapon which could destroy any planet with a single strike! Should he decide to turn it upon our homeworlds, we would not stand a chance. He knows we are powerless against him."
"We cannot give up without a fight!" Mon declared, "I will – "
"A fight?!" Padme heard herself cry and quickly sealed her lips together, wincing as all the eyes in the room turned on her. What was she thinking coming here today? She shouldn't be hearing any of this! A fight meant violence. It meant danger. It meant her husband going off into yet another battle and facing thinkable risks as the two sides clawed at one another for dominance. "Mon, you're beginning to sound like a Rebel…"
Even as she spoke the words, an unspoken truth began to settle upon Padme with a vicious twist of dread. The quiet realisation was a blade between her ribs as the people she once called friends avoided her wide-eyed gaze. She hadn't thought before speaking. If she had, she might have swallowed her words and continued walking precariously along this ever-thinning line of blissful ignorance she'd previously enjoyed.
But alas, no more.
"Padme," Bail shared a long glance with Mon whose chin tilted in a subtle nod she did not miss, "I would like to think that after years working side by side to better the galaxy and the lives of its people, I have earned your trust and your friendship." When she gave a small, silent nod of agreement, he continued, "There are people, many people, who would like to see change enacted throughout the galaxy. Democracy," That single word seemed to suck all of the air from the room and even Padme caught herself holding her breath, "I think – we all think – that perhaps Vader can be taken from the throne and replaced with someone more willing to return power to the people."
For perhaps the first time in her life, Padme found herself utterly incapable of shaping her chaotic, storming thoughts into coherent words. A power struggle against Vader to rip him from the throne? The very idea was madness – an impossible betrayal of reason and loyalty. It was treason! These words were a direct threat to her family, to everything she held dear, and yet, she sat frozen, gripped by a paralyzing, ice-cold fear as a small, long-buried part of her stirred to life and howled its agreement.
This couldn't be happening… but it was.
"Who…" Her shaking voice betrayed the growing anxiety she felt, "Who would you propose?"
Once again, a dreaded realization whispered through her racing mind. The obvious course of action, one she had never seriously considered before, suddenly loomed as a possibility. Padme had never allowed herself to dwell on it, dismissing it as unthinkable. Utterly impossible without horrific tragedy. But now, the thought was laid bare and impossible to ignore. If people sought Vader's downfall, it could spiral into a chaotic struggle for power with everyone clawing and grasping at what remained, ripping apart the last vestiges of freedom for everyone. Or… something more natural could happen. A smoother, simpler transition of power.
From one Emperor to another.
"If your husband were to be placed upon the throne," Mon began gently, "with your influence and guidance, then perhaps with time, we can scale the role of the monarchy back to something more… ceremonial. The Senate could take on a more solid role in leading the galaxy under the direction of a Chancellor. An elected Chancellor."
"One whose term would be strictly ended upon a certain number of years, to avoid returning to times such as these," Senator Kreel murmured, softly stroking the ends of his long, grey beard.
"Precisely," Bail nodded. "Does your husband listen to you, Padme? Does he truly value your thoughts and opinions? Would he heed your advice if the time were to come?"
If such a time ever came – if there a reality where Vader was no longer part of their lives were to truly take shape… Padme felt a paralyzing wave of fear explode within her. A horrifying image of people storming the palace filled her mind, of battles raging through the grand halls as Imperial guards fell one by one, powerless to stop the chaos. What would they do? It was almost unthinkable to plan to imprison Vader against his will, his power was too great, his loyal followers too numerous and fierce. This course of action would all but guarantee a war that would last for the rest of their lives – or at least the remainder of Vader's, should the cure for his ailments never materialize as promised.
Her heart wept at the thought of her family being torn apart, fractured from within and scarred beyond repair. Anakin would never forgive himself for turning against his brother if forced to do so. Their bond was too strong, their love for each other too deep to even entertain the idea of striking one another down. It was an impossibility, a plan doomed to fail. No matter how it was conceived, it would never bring peace – only unimaginable destruction in every form.
Unless…
Nausea and panic clawed at Padme's throat as a humiliating wave of tears blurred her vision, welling in her wide, disbelieving eyes. She blinked furiously, desperate to hold them back, and turned a pleading gaze first to Mon and then to Bail, silently begging them to say something, anything, that might banish the terrifying thoughts racing through her mind.
"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" She asked, her voice trembling with dread. How else could they guarantee a smooth transition of power? It was the only way to realize their ambitions and craft the galaxy they envisioned as better, stronger and free. What other path could there be? Vader had to die for their Republic to rise.
The thought hit her like a physical blow. Memories rushed through her mind unbidden, the warm, golden light in Vader's eyes as he laughed, the feel of his lips on hers, the way her body had ached for him. She saw him scoop Leia into his arms, his strength and gentleness intertwined as her delighted squeals filled the air. His absence – his death – was an idea too unbearable to even entertain. The thought of him gone ripped through Padme like a jagged wound, a pain she could scarcely comprehend.
Their silence told her everything.
"No," Padme whispered, her voice trembling as she brushed away a tear that escaped despite her efforts to hold it back. "I can't. I won't do this to Anakin." Even if she could somehow force herself to stomach the act for the greater good of the galaxy, the consequences would be unbearable. If Anakin ever discovered she had played even the smallest role in his brother's death, he would never forgive her. It wouldn't just end their marriage – it would destroy any remnants of love he still felt for her.
And Leia... her chest tightened at the thought of her little girl. When she was old enough to understand, Leia would grow to despise her. She would hate the mother who had taken away the uncle she'd adored so fiercely in her childhood.
No. It was unthinkable. Impossible. Padme couldn't – she wouldn't – be part of this.
But deep down, she knew that something had to change or war would be inevitable and when that time came, Padme couldn't say with certainty whose side she would be on anymore.
"I think I should leave," Padme said softly as she rose from her seat, her movements deliberate, though her limbs felt like stone being dragged uphill. Her chest tightened as she caught the flicker of fear in her friends' eyes. Their disappointment was been expected, their wariness, however, struck deeper. The realization that they were afraid of her – that they doubted her loyalty – cut her to the core.
The woman she once was wept softly in the shadows of her mind.
"You do not need to worry, Senators," She assured them, her voice calm but weighted with sorrow. "Nothing we've discussed will leave this room. We've been friends for many years, and I will honour that."
"Thank you, Padme," Bail said, inclining his head. Their eyes met across the room, and she silently begged him to see the plea in her gaze, to understand what she could not say aloud. Please, don't go through with this. Don't follow this plan. Find another way.
Please don't hurt Vader. Don't make me lie to my husband. Don't break his heart.
For a moment, Bail hesitated, and something shifted in his expression. He nodded once, subtly, sealing a quiet understanding between them. She hoped it was enough.
As she left Bail's apartment, the doors closing behind her with a muted hiss, a bitter, suffocating guilt seeped into her every nerve and vein. The weight of the meeting pressed heavily on her conscience. By being there, she had betrayed everyone she cared about, her husband, her friends, and most of all Vader. She was torn between them all, unable to fully stand with any.
And so, she stood with no one.
From behind the closed doors, muffled whispers reached her ears. They were already resuming their plans, forging a path that could destroy everything she held dear. Padme wrapped her arms around herself as she walked away, her steps unsteady. The ache in her heart promised that her silence today might not be enough to stop the coming storm.
But their secrets were safe with her. They had to be.
I'm sorry, Anakin.
I'm sorry Vader.
I'm so sorry.
That night, Anakin and Padme stood side by side, gazing down at the soft white hover-crib as it swayed gently on its lowest setting, lulling Leia toward sleep. No matter how much she grew, how big she got, Anakin knew he would always cherish these quiet moments, the way her little eyes grew heavy and drooped, even as she stubbornly fought to stay awake, trying to stretch the day just a little longer. Stubbornness – an unmistakable trait inherited from both her parents, apparently.
Three bedtime stories, countless cuddles and one mercifully brief tantrum later, Leia was finally asleep. Anakin's day as "daddy" had come to a close. Which meant his night as a deeply exhausted, angry and resentful husband was about to begin – again.
Two gruelling weeks of heated arguments, passive-aggressive remarks and suffocating silence in their bedroom had left Anakin drained, his patience frayed to the breaking point. He stood there, staring at the crib, wondering how much longer they could go on like this. How many more times could he explain his feelings only for Padme to brush them aside? How much more could he endure, listening to her veiled criticisms of him and his brother, words that cut him to the core?
Anakin sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. He didn't know how to fix this – or if fixing it was even possible any more.
Maybe she felt the same way? Padme had been avoiding him all evening, something that was becoming increasingly common. They had eaten dinner in near silence, the only sound between them coming from Leia's growing vocabulary as she babbled away, filling the tense void that seemed to stretch wider with every passing day. Though Padme sat just across from him at the sleek, rounded table in their stylish kitchen, it felt as though an unbridgeable chasm had opened between them. He didn't know how to reach her anymore.
And yet, there was something more – something deeper, stranger, that Anakin couldn't ignore. It was new, foreign and unsettling, like a dark seed planted within Padme's once-familiar force signature. It was buried beneath layers of frigid fear, corroding the warmth he was so accustomed to sensing from her. And it was carefully hidden, locked away behind barriers so intricate and deliberate that even Anakin's delicate attempts to probe her emotions met only resistance. Without her permission, he couldn't access whatever it was she was guarding so fiercely.
The rejection stung. They had always shared everything – or at least, he had thought so. When had that changed?
He'd first noticed it in her eyes, in the brief, fleeting moments she allowed their gazes to meet during dinner. There was something distant and unfamiliar there. It was clearer still in the stiffness of her posture, the nervous twitch of her fingers as she busied herself with trivial tasks to avoid engaging with him. Whatever she was holding back, it was driving a further wedge between them and Anakin could feel its weight pressing down on them both.
He had always been good at fixing things. Since he was a small boy, his talent for understanding the intricate, mechanical workings of things had set him apart. Problem-solving, re-wiring, recalibrating – he thrived on unravelling the complexities of circuits and equations, making sense of what seemed broken. But as Anakin stood there, trying to untangle this moment, trying to re-wire every thought, glance and feeling that had brought them here, he found no solution. The circuits resisted and the equations refused to shift. Every piece, every spark, every calculation led to the same bitter, unchanging conclusion.
"What are you hiding from me, Padme?" His voice finally broke the oppressive silence between them, the sound sharp and startling in the heavy air of Leia's bedroom. Husband and wife stood beside each other, their unspoken tensions filling the room like a storm about to break.
The question forced Padme's eyes to snap to his, widening in surprise. Despite her carefully guarded exterior, Anakin could feel the burst of anxiety erupt within her force signature, vivid and volatile, like a thousand hues of fire. The air between them almost seemed to hum with it, tainted by the tension she could no longer fully conceal.
She scoffed anyway, shaking her head, a dismissive gesture meant to deflect him, but it only fuelled the growing suspicion that coiled within his chest.
"Hiding from you?" She echoed, her voice laced with a forced lightness. She let out a small laugh, but it fell flat, swallowed by the silence that followed and he watched her turn abruptly, heading for the living room, her movements brisk and deliberate, as though trying to outrun this conversation. Anakin followed close behind, his presence a shadow at her heels.
"What would I possibly be hiding from you, Anakin?" Padme continued as she reached the living room, her tone more composed now, layered with practised indifference. Years of politics and diplomacy had honed her ability to deflect, to redirect, to wear a mask of composure even in the most trying moments.
But Anakin saw through it. He always had.
He knew her too well, every glance, every nuance, every subtle shift in her demeanour. He knew her in ways no one else ever could and something was different now. Something had changed.
Her mask might have fooled others, but never him.
"I don't know," he said quietly, lowering himself onto the sofa and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. His gaze locked with Padme's, holding hers for the longest time in weeks. "That's why I'm asking. I can feel it, Padme. There's something you're keeping from me. What is it?"
A thousand thoughts stormed through Anakin's mind in an instant, each one darker than the last. What could possibly be so terrible that she felt the need to hide it from him? To hide herself from him? Hadn't he always tried to be an understanding, supportive husband? Hadn't he done everything he could to make her feel safe with him?
Maybe it was the simmering anger and resentment over Vader's decisions about Naboo. Had those feelings festered into something deeper? Had she said something she now regretted – or worse, done something? But what? What could be so unthinkable that she was so afraid to tell him?
Then a thought struck him harder than any physical blow. They had been fighting for weeks, the tension between them thick and suffocating. He had been staying at work longer than necessary most nights, trying to avoid yet another confrontation. What if Padme had... No. He shook his head slightly as if to dispel the very notion. It wasn't possible. She would never!
Still, doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. His breath slowed as he reached out through the force, invisible tendrils stretching out through the apartment. He searched every corner, probing, feeling, praying he wouldn't find any trace of a stranger – someone who didn't belong in their home.
The moments stretched unbearably, but finally, he exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. There was no one. Relief trickled into the tension that gripped him, but it was fleeting. The weight pressing on him didn't lift. If there was no one else, then there had to be something else.
Something Padme was still hiding from him.
Her eyes widened as a gasped breath freed itself from deep inside her pale throat. Anakin saw the conflict rage within her and worse, the burst of momentary fear which surged throughout her body. What could she be so afraid of? He wanted to talk, to prize this terrible secret from her lips no matter what it took, but every ounce of willpower the Prince possessed held such instincts back. He could not force her. He would not.
"I…" A quiet, trailing syllable slipped from Padme's trembling lips, breaking the heavy silence between them. Her bright eyes dropped, focusing on her hands as they tangled and untangled, over and over, betraying the nervous energy coursing through her. The turbulence of her emotions bled into her force signature, saturating the air around Anakin until he could almost taste her unease in the air.
"I want to go home," she finally said, her voice soft but resolute. She lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his with a vulnerability that tugged at something deep within him. "I want us to go home." The faintest sniffle escaped her lips and despite the knot of discomfort twisting in his stomach, Anakin's heart ached at her visible distress.
"Back to Naboo?" He asked, frowning as confusion clouded his features. "Surely this can't be what – "
"I want us to go home," Padme interrupted, her voice firmer this time. She crossed the room in a few determined steps and climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs with practised familiarity and his traitorously eager body burned to feel her body against his after so long. Her trembling hand cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze to hers, their faces mere inches apart. Her breath, warm and unsteady, brushed teasingly against his lips.
"We don't belong here anymore, Anakin," she murmured, her tone laced with something quiet and almost pleading. "Let the Senate do what they want and Vader can make his own decisions. I want to go home and… and…"
Her voice faltered, her breath shuddering as she searched for the right words. Her fingers tightened slightly against his skin. "And we can have another baby," she said at last, the words trembling out of her. "Everything will be perfect again, just like it was before."
Anakin's breath left him all at once, his chest hollow as her words settled over him. This was what she had been hiding from him? Her decision about another child? The last time they had broached the subject, Padme had been hesitant, even reluctant. He understood her reservations, expanding their family carried far greater implications for her than for him, but it wasn't a topic she'd seemed willing to explore deeply before. And now… now she wanted this? When nothing was resolved between them and everything felt unsteady?
"What?" He breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes searched hers desperately, hoping they might reveal a deeper truth, something more than what her words were conveying. He didn't understand – what could have possibly changed her mind? "We… we can't just leave," he stammered, the weight of her sudden revelation pressing down on him. "I – I mean, we have duties, responsibilities… I don't understand, Padme." He didn't know what he was expecting, but this threw him off balance. Anakin didn't know what to do or the right words to say – where was he supposed to put his hands? Did she want him to touch her? She certainly hadn't these last few weeks.
She also didn't seem all that interested in giving him explanations right now, sealing her lips over his and every male instinct buried deep inside Anakin roared to forget everything else and take her offer right here, right now. It'd been weeks. He'd missed her so much, missed her touch, sleeping with her in his arms. Did answers really even matter that much anyway? His hand buried itself in the thick depths of her bushy curls, fisting the silken strands and tugging her head back, offering himself better access to kiss his wife harder, deeper. Padme moaned into his mouth and he was inflamed.
Force help him, he was still so angry with her and he sensed her fury shoved deep down to the very depths of herself too. With every passing second, Anakin grew rougher, his teeth sharper, leaving a tapestry of marks and bruises along her skin. He hissed when the sharp edges of her nails bit into his arms and dragged, marking him as forever hers with burning welts seared into his flesh.
Tearing her lips away from his, leaving him breathless, Anakin caught the storm of rage in Padme's eyes. He could sense the violence simmering beneath her surface, its heat a perfect reflection of the turbulent emotions churning within him too. She never tried to see things from his perspective, never sought to understand his feelings, and now she was hiding something – confusing him, provoking him with his deepest desire and the frustration clawed at his sanity.
Anakin growled a curse, the sound low and feral, just as Padme's palm cracked sharply against his cheek. The slap was quick and brutal, leaving his skin stinging with its force. "You damn brat!" He spat, his voice cutting through the tense air between them with a vicious glare. Was this what she wanted? Fury? Violence? He'd give her all of it and more!
Snarling, his hand shot out, tangling in her thick hair and pulling hard, forcing her head back. Her pale throat arched, exposed and vulnerable, an unspoken invitation that ignited something primal within him. His teeth hovered near her skin, his breath hot against her neck as the tension between them thickened, teetering dangerously on the edge of fury and desire.
"I hate you…" Her voice was barely a whimper, but those two small words sliced through him like a blade. Anakin's jaw tightened as he sunk his teeth into her neck again, almost desperate to drown out the pain they caused inside him. His heart clenched painfully in his chest – she couldn't mean it. She didn't mean it.
No, he refused to entertain such a lie, spoken only to wound him. Padme always had a sharp tongue, though it was rarely directed at him. The idea that she might truly mean those words was unthinkable! Gripping her hair tighter, Anakin tugged her head further back, forcing her tear-filled eyes to meet his. Their gaze was intense, burning with anger, hurt, and unrelenting determination.
"No, you don't," he growled, his voice low and certain, daring her to deny it.
She couldn't. Anakin felt it. He saw it.
"Fuck you," she hissed anyway, her hand snapping up to slap him again, but this time he caught her wrist mid-swing. His grip tightened, applying just enough pressure to make her yelp in surprise. Beneath the slight pressure of her curvaceous little backside, his cock throbbed violently, twitching when she ground herself down against him. If this was the way she wanted to handle things – so be it.
His free hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to make those beautiful eyes widen. "As you wish," he uttered darkly.
After all, he always did anything she asked. Anakin only hoped she had nowhere to be tomorrow… by the time he was finished with her, she wasn't going to be walking anywhere for a while.
Weeks Later
Panting in the brutal aftermath of yet another round of rough lovemaking, Padme felt deliciously wet, sore, and utterly feminine as they lay panting, tangled helplessly amongst the ruined sheets. Who needed words when one could rely on a good, sweaty workout like this to get out all her pent-up anger? So what if her necklines were getting higher and higher to conceal the devastation of her neck? Who cared if Anakin had to apply bacta to the deep scratches she tore into his skin night after night?
Was this attitude particularly healthy? She considered all the sex and very little talking a metaphorical rug being flung across the myriad of issues plaguing their marriage, but hell if it didn't feel good. Padme and Anakin had sex figured out from day one, that was never an issue of theirs… but she knew this couldn't go on forever. Not that she felt particularly inclined to open her chest and bleed out her heart to him quit yet.
But amidst all her frustration and anger, guilt churned relentlessly within Padme, boiling under the surface at all hours of the day and night. Most nights, she woke drenched in a cold sweat, her chest heaving from nightmares that refused to release her. Sometimes, it was visions of Rebels, war and death that plagued her restless sleep. Other times, it was that dream – the bird, the voices, and the name Jinn – haunting her to her very core, leaving her shaken to her soul.
Reaching out instinctively, her fingers found the warm, damp skin of her husband beside her and Padme absently stroked the back of her fingers along Anakin's chest and stomach, her touch light and aimless, as her wide eyes stared up at the ceiling. Her heart still thundered in her chest, though her skin had begun to cool as the aftershocks of her deliciously intense orgasm began to fade.
She hadn't taken her shot since… that night. That intense, almost overwhelming and nearly downright violent night between them. The memory still lingered, raw and unyielding as the bruises which painted her skin afterwards, but the viciously savage lovemaking from that night wasn't the only thing preying on her mind. The fear had taken root inside her – fear that Anakin would somehow sense the context of the conversation she'd had with her friends, that he would uncover what she'd heard them planning had sent her panicked thoughts spiralling and left Padme grasping desperately for a way to shield herself, to distract him from digging too deeply.
Another baby. Another child.
The words hadn't been a total lie, though. She'd meant what she said about returning to Naboo. She was tired of Coruscant, weary of its endless noise and political machinations. This place was damaging them, straining their marriage and dragging Padme further from the person she wanted to be. The lake country called to her soul with its promise of sanctuary and peace, a haven where they could retreat with their family, away from the suffocating weight of duty and the constant threat of betrayal. There, in the quiet of her own home, surrounded by the serenity of the water and mountains, she could pretend the universe world no longer existed.
Her free hand rested gently against her stomach as Anakin's larger, warmer hand caught hers, their fingers intertwining on his chest. The thought of having another baby stirred a tangle of emotions within Padme – feelings she wasn't quite ready to face.
They had finally built a good, steady routine with Leia, one that worked well for her, for him and for them as a family. It had taken so much time and effort to find their balance, to learn how to be both parents and partners – a lesson no one ever warned her would be so challenging. For the first time in what felt like forever, Padme was in a place where she truly felt at ease with her body again, reclaiming a sense of herself outside of motherhood. And yet, lingering beneath all of that was that dream, the one that stirred ice-cold fear in her heart every time it came to mind.
The thought of disrupting the fragile stability they had fought so hard to achieve filled her with unease, even as Anakin's touch sought to ground her in the present. Tears pricked at Padme's eyes and she hated that she felt so vulnerable, so conflicted.
She despised the lingering anger simmering inside her, the unspoken words that sat heavily between them like a wall she didn't know how to break down. There were so many conversations they hadn't had, so many things she didn't even know how to say. How could they ever truly heal when the wounds still felt so raw? How could she look at her husband and feel only love again, like she used to? Padme longed for those simpler days when loving Anakin felt effortless. She missed the quiet anticipation of their moments together, the way her heart would lift at the thought of him. She missed them, the couple they used to be before their opposing beliefs tore open a chasm between them.
Maybe another baby could make everything better? It could be a way to reconnect, a shared source of joy and hope to look forward to, even as the galaxy around them crumbled. They could retreat to Naboo, far from the chaos, and build a new future together – one where they could finally learn to let go of the past. They'd done it once before. Why couldn't they forgive each other again?
She just needed to get away from Coruscant, from Vader and the poison of his court.
And from the people who wanted to see him fall.
Padme pushed that thought aside quickly, willing it to vanish before Anakin could sense the turmoil it stirred within her.
Everything was going to be fine. Padme clung to that belief, reassuring herself over and over. She had read the promise in Bail's eyes – he wouldn't take any action that would harm Vader, at least not physically. She trusted that he and Mon would hold off, waiting to craft a plan that had her agreement before making any drastic moves. And yet, their words echoed relentlessly in her mind, refusing to be silenced. Deep down, she knew that something had to change. The shadow of the Death Star loomed over the Empire – no, over the entire galaxy – a silent, oppressive threat against anyone who dared to defy Vader's rule.
It couldn't go on like this. The weight of it all pressed heavily on her, forcing her to confront the truth she didn't want to face. Their lives were going to change one way or another, she just didn't know in which direction yet.
Summoning her courage, Padme carefully planned her words, weighing each one with precision. She rolled onto her side, pressing her nude body against Anakin's and began tracing soft, delicate patterns along the jagged lightning scars that marked his chest.
She knew the stakes – one misstep, one poorly chosen word and he would shut himself off completely, leaving no room for conversation, let alone persuasion. His unwavering loyalty to Vader as a brother was admirable, even moving, but as their Emperor? She couldn't help but wish Anakin would let her open his mind to other possibilities, to paths they had yet to explore.
He would see it, couldn't he? How much better things could be – if only either Skywalker brother would stop long enough to truly listen to her. Padme's fingers lingered between a pattern of scars, her heart heavy with both hope and frustration. "Dorme came to me the other day," she began, "She is my eyes and ears whenever I'm not around. She told me there have been… whispers."
Anakin turned his head toward her, his eyes narrowing slightly as his battle-roughened fingertips trailed a slow line down the length of her spine. "Whispers?" He murmured, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "What kind of whispers?"
Despite the warmth of their bodies pressed so closely together, a faint shiver ran through Padme, her skin prickling with unease. She knew it was safer to let him believe these words came from things Dorme had overheard rather than her own thoughts.
"You're nervous," he said softly, cupping her cheek in his calloused hand. His frown deepened, his thumb brushing gently along her jaw. "What is it, my love?"
"I…" Padme swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. It was now or never and she'd already opened the door. There was no turning back now. All she had to do was speak the words and watch for his reaction. Maybe – just maybe – Anakin would surprise her. Perhaps, after everything, he would listen and be open to this first, fragile hint of an idea.
But deep down, she knew that this wasn't a battle to be won in a single moment. Despite the flicker of hope she clung to, Padme understood this would take countless conversations and effort from them both if there were any chance of success. Every journey needed a first step, no matter how tenuous.
"There are people," she began, her voice steady but cautious, "many people, who believe that as times change and the galaxy moves forward, the need for a monarchy is fading." She paused, bracing herself for the thunderous response she expected, but none came. Anakin's expression remained unreadable as he simply nodded, silently encouraging her to continue. "Of course," Padme pressed on, emboldened by his lack of immediate resistance, "there are those who believe royalty still has a place – but perhaps as a more… ceremonial role, while the Senate governs through democracy."
Her words hung in the air as Anakin's bright blue eyes locked onto hers. His gaze was intense, piercing and unyielding, stealing the breath from her lungs as she waited, nerves coiling tight inside her.
For a fleeting moment, Padme wished for the mysterious powers Anakin and Vader wielded – abilities that allowed them to sense the emotions of others. At least then she might know what he was thinking and might be better prepared for what was to come.
But his silence stretched on, deafening in its weight and her heartbeat thundered in her chest. Doubt began to creep in, clawing at the edges of her mind. Maybe this was a mistake. She shouldn't have raised the subject right now – what was she been thinking? Anakin would never turn against Vader. He would never even consider usurping his brother's place.
Her courage faltered and a cold sense of dread seeped into her, chilling her resolve. She could only hope she hadn't pushed him too far.
"I can see why there are people who think this way," Anakin said at last, his voice calm but resolute. He released Padme's cheek, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His gaze shifted away from hers, focusing instead on the motion of his hand and a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "But they're wrong," he continued, his tone firm and certain. "The Senate is riddled with too many voices, too many competing ambitions and selfish desires. It could never lead this galaxy to greatness or maintain true peace. What we need is one voice – one leader wise enough to know what's best for everyone."
"But – " Padme began, her protest cut short as Anakin's lips claimed hers, swallowing the words before they could take shape. She recognized the tactic for what it was, a distraction, but she leaned into the kiss nonetheless. This was only the beginning, a seed planted within his mind. The whisper of an idea. She couldn't let him think she believed in the words she'd spoken – not yet.
When their lips parted, Anakin rested his forehead against hers, his nose grazing hers with a quiet, content sigh. "Vader and I fought for our places a long time ago," he murmured. "The force made its decision that day and I respect it." Before she could respond, he kissed her again, softer this time, a silencing gesture that left no room for argument. "I don't want to hear any more about these whispers," he said, his voice low but firm, "Not unless you're ready to give me names. Understand?"
Padme didn't open her eyes. She couldn't. She was afraid of what she might see in his, what emotions might be lurking there and what truths they might reveal. Instead, she forced a smile, her expression practised and composed, the well-worn mask of a politician. "Of course, my love," she said softly, settling herself into the comfort of his arms and resting her ear against his chest, where his steady heartbeat thrummed beneath her.
But deep in the shadowed corners of her mind, where thoughts she dared not speak aloud lingered, Padme knew the truth. Despite his resistance, despite his certainty, this was only the beginning.
Humiliation burned within Arievel, a fiery rage so potent that, if she possessed the powers of the family she had married into, the palace itself might have crumbled to rubble around her. Every sympathetic glance cast her way tonight felt like a searing wound, branding her skin with an agony so raw it made her hands tremble. Her fists clenched tightly against the shimmering fabric of her starlight gown, the delicate material crumpling beneath the force of her grip.
Storming through the palace halls, the Empress moved with purpose, her fury guiding her every step. She knew exactly where her deceitful, deal-breaking excuse of a husband would be hiding. Vader would be in his private offices, those chambers he loved to retreat to for hours, losing himself in endless work to avoid facing the bleak reality of his own existence.
But not tonight.
Arievel's anger flared, her resolve hardening with every step. Tonight, he wouldn't escape behind guarded doors. Tonight, he would face her. It was long past time she gave him a piece of her mind!
Arievel stormed past the startled guards without giving them a moment to announce her arrival, slamming down upon the receiver pad and marching inside the sliding doors the moment they parted enough for her to fit. She paused just long enough to draw a deep, steadying breath, her anger barely contained as Vader's yellow gaze lazily lifted from the datapad in his hand to regard her. His expression was one of utter disinterest, as though her intrusion were a tiresome inconvenience.
"What do you want?" he sighed, his voice heavy with irritation.
She felt her face flushed, heat rising to her cheeks despite the simmering anger that fuelled her. What had she ever done to earn this cruelty? "How can you insult me like that?" The Empress demanded, shaking her head in disbelief. "Actually, I don't even know why I'm surprised. From the very beginning, you've shown me nothing but blatant disrespect!"
Her voice quivered with a mixture of fury and hurt as she continued, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Despite what people whispered about her, she wasn't some naive, empty-headed fool. She hadn't entered this marriage blindly. Arievel never expected Vader to be a doting, loyal husband, the kind to curl up beside her each night, but she had expected something – at the very least, a shred of respect and he did everything in his power to deny her this at every opportunity.
"You were practically undressing that woman with your eyes in front of everyone tonight," She accused, her voice rising with each word. "Didn't you see how they looked at me? Why must you constantly humiliate me? Do you just enjoy making me a laughingstock?"
Her words hung in the air, charged with the weight of her frustration, her gaze fixed on him as she awaited a response.
Vader let out a low, humourless laugh, his yellow eyes gleaming with disdain as he set the datapad down on his desk. "Your capacity for self-delusion is nothing short of astonishing," he sneered, leaning back in his chair. "Let me remind you, Arievel, I am the victim in this marriage, not you." He rose to his feet, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over her. "From the very beginning, I have given you everything you ever asked for," he continued, his voice cold and cutting. "A crown, a throne, wealth beyond measure and prestigious positions for your family. And all I asked in return, the one thing I required of you – you've denied me." His voice rose with his anger, every word dripping with contempt. "I seem to have married the one infertile woman in a family that produces offspring like a damned breeding farm! Tell me, Arievel, what use is an Empress who cannot fulfil the singular duty expected of her?"
The venom in his tone filled the room, heavy and suffocating, as he stared her down, daring her to respond.
Her fury pulsed in her blood.
"You, a victim?" Arievel scoffed, her voice dripping with incredulity. And he claimed her guilty of self-delusion? "In what galaxy are you a victim, Vader? After parading that Mandalorian whore around, ruining her life and replacing her with gods only know what when she finally got tired of you!" Her voice rose into a furious screech as the weight of his cruel words truly sank in. "Perhaps I am inferior to my family," she spat, her words sharp as daggers. "But if that's the case, what does that make you? Hmm? The other Skywalker brother. The less virile, less fertile, less wanted brother! You know the people want Anakin on the throne instead of you, don't you? At least he isn't rotting away like your father did before you!"
Her words struck a nerve and Vader moved so suddenly, charging around his desk that Arievel stumbled back despite the fury coursing through her. Her heart raced as fear mixed with her defiance, her pulse pounding in her ears.
"Do not speak of Satine to me!" Vader roared, pointing a trembling finger at her pale face. His voice thundered, shaking the very air between them. "Not after the damage you and your half-witted supporters inflicted on her in your pathetic, misguided attempts at retaliation! You can prod at me all you like, Arievel, but unlike you, I am secure in my position in life!"
If fear hadn't been rooting her to the spot, the Empress might have laughed at his declaration. Instead, she threw her head back, a derisive sneer curling her lips. "Why would I care about Satine Kryze ruining her life for you?" She shot back, her voice reaching a fever pitch. "More fool her for thinking you were worth the price!"
"Because my own people look at me as villain, as lesser, as you so eloquently worded it, because of you!" Vader roared so powerfully that his rage seemed to make the walls tremble.
"Good!" she screamed back, her voice rising to match his volume. "I hope I never give you a child! I hope your legacy is nothing but the spectacular failures of your pathetic life! It's exactly what you deserve for poisoning this marriage from the very first damned day!"
"This is no marriage!" Vader bellowed, his voice like rolling thunder, shaking her to her core. Despite the tremor it sent through her body, Arievel refused to back down. She lifted her chin defiantly, her gaze burning with rebellion, daring him to expect anything less. "This grotesque misalliance between us was a mistake I will no longer tolerate!" He thundered, his voice filled with venom. "I will not suffer another moment by the side of someone so utterly useless to me!"
"You cannot send me away!" Arievel shot back, shoving at his chest with all her strength, though he remained unmovable stone before her. "I am your Empress! The people will revolt if you dare try to replace me now!" Her words hit their mark, the sharp edge of them cutting deeply. It had been made undeniably clear who the people of the galaxy favoured most between them and it was a competition her husband had lost decisively. His humiliation in that fact was her one solace in this miserable, hopeless existence and Arievel wielded it like a blade now, her only weapon against his rage. "They would never forgive you!" she spat, her voice trembling with fury. "And they'd never accept whatever slut you pick to wear my crown!"
Her words lingered in the charged air between them, a bitter challenge as she held his fiery gaze, refusing to yield.
"Go fuck yourself," Vader hissed, "I am Emperor and I will decide what I can and cannot do – nobody else!"
"Perhaps I should go fuck your brother instead," Arievel bared her teeth, her fury blazing hot enough to melt any remnants of self-preservation. "At least he's man enough to put a child inside a woman!"
The blow came before she could see it, let alone brace for it. Vader's hand collided with her cheek in a sharp, brutal smack, the force of it sending her stumbling backwards into the wall. A small, pained cry escaped her lips as her vision blurred with tears she couldn't hold back, the edges of the world swimming into a black haze. Warm and metallic, the taste of blood filled her mouth, seeping from her split lip and coating her tongue.
But Arievel refused to cower, refused to give him the satisfaction of her fear. Despite the pain and the trembling in her limbs, she forced herself to stand straight, her defiance burning bright even through her tears.
"I can drag you back down to the nothingness from which I plucked you," Vader hissed, his voice cold and venomous. "You would do well to remember that, Arievel." He turned sharply, his heavy footsteps echoing as he strode toward the doorway. The panels hissed open before him, framing his imposing figure as he paused.
"I will be leaving in three days to visit Alderaan and meet with Queen Breha," he said, his tone flat and dismissive. "I see no reason for you to accompany me. I will speak with you when I return."
The door slid shut with a final, chilling hiss, leaving Arievel alone in the suffocating silence of his office.
Her hand trembled as she pressed it against her throbbing cheek, her palm barely able to cradle the sharp ache radiating from the blow. It was all she could do to remain standing until she was certain he was gone.
But the moment the silence enveloped her fully, her legs gave way. She sank to her knees with a short, gasping sob, the weight of it all crashing down on her like a tidal wave.
How had it come to this?
"If he has developed the boldness to use the vast weaponry and funding at his disposal to threaten someone of royal birth – a King with an ancestry reigning in peace alongside Vader's own for almost all of history – there is no telling who, or precisely what, will come next," Orn Free Taa carefully shook his head and Bail noted the deep creases forming within the pale blue of the Rylothian Senator's skin. He was afraid, that was only natural. Anyone who valued justice and liberty knew there were many causes for fear these days. "I believe we are entering a dark age, friends, and I do not see a peaceful conclusion."
A small council had gathered once again in the apartments Bail Organa occupied during his stays on Coruscant. A growing coalition of Senators now met weekly in his rooms, their voices low but determined as they struggled to devise a strategy to safeguard all they had worked for against Vader's tightening grip of tyranny.
Each new face that joined their ranks brought with it a mix of emotions, a soaring hope that they were not alone, that the cause for truth, justice, and liberty was gaining strength, and a breathless fear of what that growth might mean. The more who stood with them, the more powerful their Senate could become, perhaps even strong enough to root out the corruption and force true change without descending into lasting bloodshed.
But every addition to their numbers carried an undeniable risk. One loose whisper, one word spoken to the wrong ears, and their efforts could collapse in an instant. Should those whispers find their way to the palace, to the hands of Vader or his loyalists, it would mean certain death for everyone involved.
Bail's gaze flicked toward the great transparasteel windows, his eyes scanning the skytraffic beyond. His shoulders grew tense as unease settled deep in his chest. Was that cruiser slowing down as it passed by a spy, perhaps, gathering intelligence? Or was it simply a coincidence? Every speeder, every ship on the horizon felt like a looming shadow, a harbinger of doom poised to bring devastation to those gathered here today.
Still, he pushed the fear down, standing tall amidst the quiet storm of their shared rebellion. The stakes were high, but the stakes had always been high. If they didn't act now, they might never have another chance.
Sweat began to bead on Bail's brow as his eyes swept the room, taking in the faces of his guests – his colleagues, his co-conspirators. He swallowed hard, his throat dry with tension. Many among them were true and loyal friends, individuals he trusted implicitly. But there were others, more than he cared to admit, whose presence had taken him by surprise. Senators from across the galaxy, drawn here by whispers of resistance, all claiming to want better than what Vader's regime offered.
Gods, Bail thought, let them be genuine.
Anyone here could be Vader's eyes and ears. Any moment could be their last.
The risk was staggering, colossal in its implications, but Bail knew it was a risk worth taking – the most necessary decision of his entire life. If no one stood for liberty and justice, the galaxy would be cast into a shadow so deep it might never see the light again.
Vader's growing hubris threatened to drown out the Senate's voice entirely, silencing it beneath the cries of those eager to profit from the suffering of others. The Skywalkers had grown too bold, their influence spreading too far, too fast. Emperor Sidious had been leading the galaxy down a similar dark path before his death and now his son was treading in his footsteps.
No, Bail thought grimly, Vader is worse.
The weight of that truth pressed down on him like a physical burden, but he stood firm. This fight was too important to falter now.
Bail glanced at Mon, who offered a subtle nod of agreement with Orn, her hands preoccupied with stirring a fresh mug of caf the protocol droid had just placed before her. "Indeed," the red-haired Senator said with a weary sigh. "Things seemed far more hopeful for our cause some time ago before Anakin whisked the girl away from under our noses. But let us not despair. Our lack of weaponry on the scale of the Death Star does not render us powerless, my friends. It simply means we must consider alternative measures to create the galaxy we all envision."
Bail straightened in his armchair, willing his pounding heart to calm. The thunderous rhythm in his chest felt deafening, as though his colleagues might hear it and detect the fear coiled within him. He took a steadying breath and spoke. "Mon and I believe," he began, his voice firm but measured, "that the only path to a fair, true and just Republic, one led by democracy and liberty, lies in the fall of Vader Skywalker. He will not relinquish his power willingly, but there are options we can explore."
"Options?" Senator Giddean Danu leaned forward, raising a sceptical brow. "And what options would those be? Our funds are considerable but far from limitless. If we were to go to war against him, Vader would outlast us. And even if we mustered an army, he could simply turn the Death Star upon any of our homeworlds and snuff out millions of lives in a single moment."
The room fell silent, the weight of Danu's words settling heavily over them all. The unspoken truth lingered in the air – every step forward carried the risk of catastrophic consequences. Yet, despite the fear, the glimmers of determination remained in their eyes, unspoken but undeniable.
The thought of war tearing across the galaxy pained Bail deeply, cutting against the core of his beliefs. Such a conflict would only pull them further from the reality they were fighting to build – a peaceful, unified galaxy governed by liberty and justice. It was a resort he wished to avoid at all costs. "I don't believe we have reason to worry on that front, Senator," he said, his voice steady but uncertain. "I doubt Vader wishes to be remembered for such bloodshed."
"Not yet, at least," Mon murmured, her tone thoughtful. "But the possibility remains and that is precisely why he must be removed from the throne. I've been researching the laws of succession and every piece of information available regarding the Skywalker Princes. Admittedly, Sidious kept much of it hidden, sealed away from public records. But after countless hours of searching, I've found something, Senators." She paused, her eyes scanning the room, the weight of her words building anticipation. "And it will change everything."
Bail's curiosity sparked, though he kept his expression carefully composed. Mon had been tight-lipped during their earlier conversations, unwilling to hint at what she had uncovered or let him speculate. It wasn't his nature to indulge in gossip, but the mystery had gnawed at him nonetheless.
Sidious had been a cruel and calculating tyrant, a leader who imposed unimaginable horrors without hesitation or mercy. But he had also been shrewd, masterfully concealing his vulnerabilities for decades. Bail found it difficult to believe the man would have allowed anything of significance to slip through his iron grip. And yet, Mon's confidence stirred a faint glimmer of hope within him. Perhaps she had found the key they needed after all.
"We all know that Princes Vader and Anakin are twins," Mon began, her voice calm but charged with significance. "And we know that Sidious selected his heir behind closed doors. The entire process was shrouded in secrecy and announced only during the celebration of the Princes' tenth birthday. Vader was declared the chosen heir, but even as Emperor, he did not have the right to make that decision himself."
Bail frowned, his curiosity piqued as he leaned subtly closer to his colleague. No one had ever dared question Sidious' methods, at least not openly. It was widely accepted that the boys' status as twins rendered their birth order irrelevant in such a monumental decision. If anything, some had even praised the late Emperor for allowing time to assess which child was better suited for the role rather than defaulting to natural timing.
"What exactly are you saying?" Bail asked, his voice edged with both intrigue and trepidation.
Mon's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "The laws of succession are very clear, my friends," she said, her tone measured but triumphant. "The firstborn child of any reigning monarch is the undisputed heir to the Imperial throne. It does not matter what the reigning monarch desires or which of their children they favour. I reviewed the birthing records of Vader and Anakin, along with the late Empress Shmi's death certificates. As it happens, our proclaimed Emperor was born four standard minutes after Anakin Skywalker."
A stunned silence fell over the room, the gravity of Mon's revelation sinking into the minds of everyone present. Gasps rippled through the group, the weight of the implication settling like a heavy shroud. If Mon was correct, and Bail had no reason to doubt her meticulous research, then this single detail had the potential to change everything.
"Are you saying…" Senator Giddean Danu began, his voice trailing off as he stared at Mon, wide-eyed and incredulous.
Mon nodded slowly, her gaze steady. "Vader Skywalker has no legitimate claim to the throne while his brother and niece live. Anakin is the rightful Emperor and Princess Leia is his undisputed heir." She let her words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, her confidence unwavering. "If we can clear his path, Anakin Skywalker could be the key to everything we seek to achieve – a galaxy restored to justice and balance."