A/N: This is a loooong one! It's actually part 1 of two chapters that were supposed to be one in my original plans, but there was simply no way of making that happen without a 20,000 word count. I'm SO excited to share this and part two with you.
Also, I've had some DMs asking me to break down the characters ages. Right now, Padme is 30 years old while Anakin and Vader are 26.
17 years ago
Emperor Sidious lounged upon his crimson throne in the cavernous hall of the Imperial Palace, its vaulted ceiling and grand columns dwarfed by the dark presence of his sons. On this most momentous day, the eve of the boys' tenth birthday, their fates would forever be set. Everything had been arranged and the announcement was set to be made in the Senate first thing in the morning so the people would understand how things would be. His will reigned supreme. There was no law, no prickly sense of morality which could stand against the power of the dark side of the force. He had fought hard to change all, to reshape the galaxy itself in his design and this day, this paramount moment was the first step of a glorious, eternal reign that would ensure darkness prevailed.
Below him, the twins borne of his seed fought in a furious dance of crackling red blades. Anakin and Vader whirled and clashed, sparks flying ahead in jagged arcs illuminating their young faces, both twisted with determination. The throne room was otherwise empty, its pillars casting deep shadows that flickered ominously as the boys' sabers hissed and snarled. Sidious alone would bear witness to this black ceremony so that the revelations at its ending were his own to consider.
The Emperor watched all but vibrating with elation. Today, he would have an heir. Both boys would make for a wonderful vessel with enough time and training but there could only be two. He hadn't expected his late wife to bear him two infants but the incubator had done her duty and he'd discarded of her swiftly enough. Now there was a choice to be made, one he would consider very carefully. Resting his chin on steepled fingertips, Sidious yellow eyes blazed as the Princes fought for their lives below. Vader was already deeply steeped in the dark side, he sensed the boy's anger and desperation for victory beneath every blow, his strikes fuelled by a seething power. The boy was cunning, Sidious thought, noting how Vader baited Anakin into half-lunges only to twist aside at the last second. But there was such potential in Anakin… like a dormant sun waiting to be unleashed. His attunement to the force felt broader, more unpredictable and he hungered to shape that raw power into the very image of his will.
Below the throne, the twins' lightsabers locked with a glaring flash of crimson light, throwing them both back a pace. Then Anakin lunged, his bright hair flying as he slammed a fist into Vader's jaw. Sidious let out a dry cackle, relishing the shock on the boy's face and the quickening rage in his eyes. Yes… let that fury feed you. Both boys panted, still so foolishly tethered by their shared blood, both hesitating for an instant… They were afraid of truly harming each other. I'll whip that weakness out of them in time, he thought with grim satisfaction.
Vader recovered swiftly, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He studied Anakin's footing and deliberately swept out a leg, tripping his brother and sending him tumbling hard. Anakin landed in a sprawl and Vader pounced, driving his lightsaber downward. Sidious' eyes narrowed in glee as the blade hovered mere inches above Anakin's heaving chest, threatening the blaze of heat.
"Yield!" Vader hissed, chest rising and falling, his free hand clenched into a trembling fist.
Teetering on the edge, Sidious rose from his throne, leaning forward with claws of anticipation digging into the armrests. Is this it? Would Anakin muster a final burst of power or would Vader claim his rightful place here and now? The marble floor rang with the echo of silence, broken only by ragged breathing. Slowly, Anakin looked from the fearsome glow of his brother's lightsaber to Sidious above and he sensed something settle upon the boy. Something he would consider properly at another time. After another moment, he lowered his head in surrender.
Sidious let out a sharp bark of laughter, a gleeful, victorious sound that rolled through the chamber. The Emperor descended from his throne and clasped his triumphant boy around the shoulders. "Well done," he purred, guiding Vader away. "One day you will have everything you desire… everything." Vader's face was proud and flushed, torn between the desperate thirst for his father's praise, yet another weakness – but one he could wield – and the pathetic guilt for nearly striking down his brother.
The future was set. Vader would take his place by Sidious' side and one day, once he was strong enough, become the vessel he required. The beginning of his endless rule. Glancing over his shoulder at the boy left sprawled on the cold marble floor, the Emperor felt not even a twinge as they left him behind because the rule was clear. There could only be two.
When the time was right, to make room for his brother's ascent, Anakin would die.
Padme yawned and stretched her arms high over her head as she slipped a long, floral robe along her arms and wrapped it around her body. For the first time in… well, she wasn't sure exactly how long, she couldn't force the smile which had stretched across her lips away. Outside, a beautiful new day was already in full bloom across Naboo. The meadows beyond their house were lush and green, full of bright, vibrant wildflowers that thrust a sweet, floral scent dancing across the slight breeze.
No clouds of smog hung thickly in the air. Here, the sun was full and natural, controlled only by the whims of nature herself and not advanced technologies ensuring stability every single day. The sky was clean and empty of thousands upon thousands of ships and cruisers that painted the view of their other home. This was where Padme wanted to be – far away from the rush of Coruscant and the stress that place forced upon their lives.
Her relief of returning home was almost overwhelming. Here, there was no one whispering dire warnings about the consequences of Vader's decisions and the vicious retaliations he might face. She felt her chest tighten even thinking about it – those decisions she had neither endorsed nor controlled, but that had somehow become her burden to carry. Here in the lake country, she could push it all away, there was only the hum of life and the simplicity of existence.
Inhaling deeply, she enjoyed the warm fragrance of her caff as this lazy morning dragged onwards. What a delight it was to wake without alarms or Leia's excitement to begin the day the very moment the sun rose. Her parents had kindly offered to take the child for a few days and give Anakin and Padme peace.
Anakin. She glanced toward the staircase, still cloaked in the shadows of early morning. He was upstairs, still sound asleep, a rare indulgence for them both. She could almost hear the soft rhythm of his breathing in her mind, a sound she'd learned to treasure on these quieter days.
She suspected her mother knew the tensions still simmering within their marriage, even if they remained unspoken for now. Padme was grateful for her parents' understanding, grateful for this time to be alone with Anakin – to try and heal their bond and remember why they loved each other in the first place. They needed this peace, this quiet, to sift through the wreckage of what they'd become. People always said marriage wasn't easy, that love would be tested and that there would be difficult times no matter how deeply two people cared about each other. Now, for the first time, Padme truly understood what they meant.
Once, they'd promised to choose each other no matter what. They'd talked about how hard but rewarding it would be to forgive and to rebuild, no matter the circumstances. But was that still possible? Padme wasn't sure. Shame and fury knotted together in her chest, a constant, gnawing ache. She couldn't ignore the weight of what Anakin had done by standing silently by as Vader manipulated the galaxy to the tune of his whims. And worse, how he kept his brother's intentions hidden from her until it was already too late to stop them.
Gods help her, Padme was just so angry with him. No matter how much she tried to bury it, the fury burned through her, sharp and consuming, every time the news carried whispers of Naboo's transition of power. Every reminder of how her beautiful homeworld had been swept into Vader's growing empire left her trembling, her body shaking with the effort to keep her emotions in check. The holo-mags and news transmissions hadn't spared her either – labelling her a traitor to her people, a sellout, a symbol of betrayal. Each headline cut her deeper, widening the hidden wound she carried. She didn't know how much longer she could endure it.
And yet, she also knew Anakin carried his own burdens. He felt equally misunderstood – torn between their love and his unwavering loyalty to his brother. She knew he resented her inability to see things the way he did, just as much as she resented his willingness to turn a blind eye to the consequences of Vader's decisions. It was festering between them, silent and corrosive, deepening the chasm that had once been filled with nothing but trust and devotion.
Her real fury was reserved for Vader. The Emperor's insistent attempts to contact her had not lessened since Padme had shut herself away from him and his poisonous court, but she ignored every attempted transmission. She refused to open his messages and returned the parcels he sent in some thinly veiled attempt to ease his conscience. Vader was the one who had dealt this devastating blow to her homeworld, to her people and her marriage. There was nothing he could say to make her forgive him.
And yet, there it was… the small, quiet part of herself that she loathed and wished she could silence. It missed him. She missed their conversations, the sound of his laugh, the moments when she could see traces of the good man she knew he truly was. Padme longed, shamefully, to see him even for a few fleeting moments. But no. She clenched her fists and shook such traitorous thoughts from her mind. Tomorrow, on Alderaan, she would be professional and distant. The trip wasn't for her. It was a public charade, orchestrated to show the royal family and the galaxy a united front amidst growing whispers of division. Sabe had begged her to attend, pleading with her to set aside her anguish for the sake of diplomacy. The very thought turned Padme's stomach, but she had reluctantly agreed. If nothing else, it would offer her the chance to speak to Bail again.
But that was for tomorrow.
Today, Padme didn't want to feel resentful, hurt, or angry. Today, she didn't want to carry the weight of the galaxy's conflicts on her shoulders. She wanted to feel like herself again – a woman in love, enjoying a rare moment of child-free peace with her husband. So she drew a deep breath and tucked away all thoughts of Vader, politics and the trip to come. The resentments and betrayals, the anger and confusion – they could wait.
Today, she chose to let them go. Today, she was going to be happy.
An hour or so later, both Padme and Anakin were dressed and comfortably settled on a soft blanket in the lush meadow attached to their home. Just a little way off, banthas cooed and grazed lazily, basking in the sun's warm kiss upon their broad backs. Padme smiled as her fingers traced one of the embroidered flowers sewn into the pale yellow fabric of her dress. She loved summer on Naboo. The gentle breeze, the golden glow of sunlight filtering through the trees, the earthy sweetness of wildflowers in bloom – everything about it reminded her of simpler, happier times.
Despite the warm weather, Anakin remained steadfast in his usual attire – a black shirt and dark trousers. Padme sighed inwardly. She'd tried for years to coax him into something lighter, something more fitting for the season, but his stubbornness on the matter had proven unshakable.
Before them sat a small selection of food and wine, untouched for the moment. Padme wasn't particularly hungry, but she knew it wouldn't be long before Anakin began to devour his portion and then inevitably make eyes at hers. That was just how things were, she mused with a growing smile. Anakin stifled a yawn as he reclined onto his side, propping his head on his hand. His golden hair fell across his forehead in soft waves, and though he tried to appear alert, the afternoon sun was already working its magic on him. Rolling her eyes, Padme followed suit, stretching out beside him.
"Tired already? It's only mid-afternoon!" she teased. "You're getting old, Ani… maybe you should start taking naps with Leia."
"Hey!" He pouted, though the humour in his eyes betrayed him. "You know, I remember a time when you were polite to me. I almost thought you were intimidated by me… I miss those days."
Padme burst out laughing, unable to resist his faux-glowering expression. "Oh, please!" she said, rolling her eyes. "I was polite because you were a Prince. What other choice did I have? You were so above us all with your lightsaber and mysterious powers no one really understands. Of course, it was intimidating!"
She paused, her smile softening with the memory. Back then, she'd wanted him to approve of her ideas, her proposals in the Senate, to see her as more than just another politician seeking his attention. She'd quickly learned that a soft smile and a flutter of lashes often worked wonders with him. But she kept that little secret to herself – it was part of the flirtatious game they used to play. Those days seemed so far away now, as though they were memories borrowed from another life.
Anakin's smirk pulled her back to the present. "Is that so?" He said, his voice tinged with amusement. "So it wasn't my charm or good looks that won you over? Just my title?"
"Oh, don't get ahead of yourself," Padme quipped, playfully swatting at his arm. "Your charm had nothing to do with it. If anything, I think it was my patience that kept me from throttling you when you strutted around like the galaxy revolved around you."
"Strutted?" Anakin exclaimed, feigning offence. "I commanded the room, thank you very much. Big difference."
Padme couldn't help but laugh again, her laughter mixing with the hum of the meadow around them. For a moment, the weight of their responsibilities, their conflicts and their pain felt like distant storms – still present, but far enough away to let them enjoy the sunshine. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," she teased, leaning back against the blanket and letting her eyes drift closed. The warm breeze played with the loose strands of her hair, and she felt herself relax in a way she hadn't in months.
Anakin's voice was softer now, carrying just a hint of nostalgia. "You know, I've missed being here like this. Just us. It feels… simple. Like it used to be."
Padme opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him, her heart catching at the vulnerability in his gaze. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his. "It is simple, Ani. At least for today, it can be."
All the humour bled from his eyes, replaced by something softer, warmer. Anakin's hand squeezed hers as he swallowed, seemingly battling for his words. "I love you, Padme," he said quietly. "I know… I know things aren't perfect right now. We have so much healing and listening to do. But know this, nothing – nothing – powerful enough to make me stop loving you exists." His hand caressed her cheek, gentle and reverent. "You and Leia mean more to me than anything. Please, know that."
"Anakin…" she began, her voice trembling, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. But he spoke over her, his voice low and insistent.
"Did I ever tell you the moment I fell in love with you?"
Padme blinked, startled, and shook her head. He continued without hesitation, his gaze far away as though he were reliving the memory. "There was an assassination attempt against you. Your handmaiden… she died in the blast." At once, the familiar and unforgotten pain of Corde's death flared in her chest and her shoulders sagged beneath its familiar weight. The vivid memory of her friend's sacrifice – her willingness to die for her – was as raw as ever. "You stormed into the Senate that same day," Anakin went on, his voice steady but filled with admiration. "I wasn't even supposed to be there, but I saw you. You stood before them all, refusing to be silenced. After such a trauma, such a loss, you stood proud and defended your beliefs. I was amazed. I was so proud of you, even from a distance."
He had never told her this story before. Tears welled in Padme's eyes and spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them. Anakin noticed, his expression softening as he reached up to brush them away with his thumb. "I'm fine," she sniffled, giving him a watery smile. "Honestly, Ani, I'm being silly. These are happy tears – I'm happy."
"Are you?" he asked quietly. She saw the insecure fear in his eyes, the vulnerability he rarely allowed her to see. He knew what they were avoiding as well as she did and understood the deep fissures in their marriage that neither of them could ignore forever. There were problems, resentments, wounds that would eventually need to be faced. But not now. Not today. Padme wanted this peaceful, uninterrupted time with him, free of Coruscant's demands and the shadow of Vader. For once, she couldn't find the right words to reassure him, so instead, she shifted closer, carefully avoiding the food and wine, and kissed him.
Anakin's lips tasted faintly of wine, intoxicating as ever. She moaned softly into the kiss and cupped his face with her hands, holding him as if afraid he might slip away from her – not that he would. Padme wasn't like Anakin, she struggled to express her love through words as freely as he did, but she always tried to be sure he felt it in her actions, in the quiet touches and gestures that spoke louder than anything she could say She poured all of herself into the kiss, her love, her longing, her hope. She kissed his smooth, freshly shaven cheeks, his eyelids and the tip of his nose. Then his forehead, his chin, and finally his lips again. He was the most dutiful man she'd ever known, the most precious part of her life. She loved him with her entire being and she was determined to show him.
They were going to be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day – not so far off, she hoped – they would find their way back to each other.
"I've only ever loved you, Anakin," Padme whispered when they finally pulled apart. "Nothing can or will ever change that."
For a moment, her words seemed to soothe him. But then something dimmed in his beautiful blue eyes, a flicker of uncertainty that struck her like a blow. "Even stars burn out, Angel," he murmured. "You don't know what's going to happen one day…"
"They do," she nodded softly, her gaze steady and unwavering, "but even if this galaxy burns out with them, I'll still love you in the next one… and the one after that." Her voice trembled with conviction, each word a promise born from the depths of her soul.
Anakin's eyes searched hers and, at last, the shadow of doubt in his expression seemed to ease. Padme leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips – one more touch, one more reassurance of her enduring love. When she finally relaxed beside him, a quiet peace settled over her, though she could feel the weight of the days ahead pressing on the edges of her thoughts. This visit to Alderaan would test them in more ways than she dared imagine, but she prayed, fervently and desperately, that they could face it together. That somehow, they could emerge whole.
For now, she let herself rest in the moment, nestled beside the man she loved with every fibre of her being. Whatever storms awaited them tomorrow and beyond, today she would hold onto this fleeting calm, a quiet reminder of the love that bound them through every trial.
"Stay?" Leia whimpered softly, even as she nestled comfortably into Sola's eager arms. Two Imperial guards stood stationed at either side of the Naberrie household, silent as shadows, their imposing figures watching over the little Princess with unwavering vigilance. With Vader, Anakin and herself leaving for Alderaan, security surrounding the Imperial heir had been significantly heightened – at Anakin's firm insistence.
Padme smiled down at her daughter, stroking her silky hair in soothing motions. They would only be gone a few days and Leia was going to have so much fun with her aunt and uncle that she wouldn't even think to miss them. "We'll be back soon, my love," she said gently. Beside her, Anakin wrapped an arm around her waist, his steady presence grounding her as Leia nodded hesitantly.
"And I'll bring you a present, sweetheart," Anakin grinned, his expression full of mischief and warmth. "Something amazing…"
At once, Leia's eyes lit up with such fierce, childish excitement that it was almost impossible for Padme not to roll her own. Anakin couldn't resist spoiling their daughter – it was as if it was written into his very being. No child had ever been so adored in all the galaxy, Padme swore it. And the thought of how much more crowded their home might feel with two little ones for him to spoil made her smile widen, if just a little wistfully.
"A present?" Leia gasped, her small hands clapping together in delight.
"Only if you're a very good girl for Auntie Sola and Uncle Dareed," Padme cut in smoothly before Anakin could overpromise. She knew how guilty he felt whenever his duties pulled him away from Leia, but she wasn't going to raise a brat. There had to be some rules. "Do you promise?"
Leia nodded solemnly, her tiny face the picture of earnestness. Sola laughed, her warm, maternal joy lighting up the room. "Oh, she'll be an angel, I'm sure of it! We're going to have such a great time. I've already baked cookies!"
Padme's smile deepened as she looked at her sister. Pregnancy suited Sola immensely. While she had struggled with the sickness and aches that carrying Leia had brought her, Sola was positively glowing! The gentle swell of her belly only seemed to enhance the deeply feminine beauty her sister had always possessed. Padme hoped her next pregnancy would be as wonderful as Sola's seemed to be.
Her next pregnancy… The thought flickered through her mind like a bright, fragile flame. Something both exciting and reluctant tingled across her skin, too complicated to pin down. A new baby. Another child to grow their family and maybe, just maybe, help heal the divide that still lingered between her and Anakin once and for all. Leia would love to have a sibling and Padme had always hoped for a boy, though her dreams lately whispered haunting things. Three voices murmuring that same name, over and over every night – Jinn. A shiver ran through her, unbidden, and she leaned closer to Anakin, seeking the comfort of his warmth and solidity.
No. No more thoughts of that. Not now. She was saying goodbye to her actual baby right now.
Padme cupped Leia's cheek and kissed her forehead, savouring the sweet innocence in her daughter's wide brown eyes. "Be good, my darling," she whispered. "We'll be home before you know it."
Tension coiled tight and uncomfortably deep inside Padme's chest as she, Anakin, Vader, and the other members of the Imperial delegation took their assigned seats across from Queen Breha, Bail, and their team of advisors. The room was oppressively silent, both parties bracing themselves for the battle to come. The weight of unspoken words and simmering hostilities hung in the air like a storm cloud. Unlike those around her, Padme hadn't watched the Death Star footage Vader used to threaten King Thule. The very thought of it made her heart twist in horror. A weapon with the power to annihilate entire civilizations at a whim – it was monstrous! Just unthinkable. With such a device, the Emperor's control would become absolute. No one would be able to stand against him. Ever.
But wasn't that the point?
That burned inside her, a heavy, smouldering anger she struggled to contain. Her mind couldn't stop reeling at the thought of what the Death Star could mean for the galaxy, for her people, for her daughter's future. How could anyone wield such power and not lose every shred of their humanity?
Since their arrival, Padme had done her best to avoid Vader, but it wasn't an easy task. As part of the same delegation, she was forced to stand by his and Anakin's side, their supposed unity a carefully staged performance for the Alderaan court. But when his presence wasn't strictly necessary, she acted as though Vader simply did not exist. She couldn't afford to think of him as the kind, passionate man she'd once known. That person – the one who had inspired her, challenged her, even made her laugh – was gone. The mere thought of it made her throat tighten with suppressed rage.
Not that her indifference seemed to bother him. If anything, it only seemed to encourage Vader's relentless attempts to attract her attention. A lingering glance here, a quiet word there – small gestures that might have seemed innocuous to others but only deepened her resentment. She wasn't going to let him pull her into his orbit again, not after what he had done.
Padme folded her hands tightly in her lap, forcing her breathing to steady as she glanced across the table at Breha and Bail. The determination in their eyes matched her own. Whatever Vader's ambitions were, Alderaan wouldn't fall quietly. But as the first words were exchanged and the tense negotiations began, Padme couldn't shake the uneasy sense that this was only the beginning and that far greater storms were still to come.
Padme's gaze slid to her husband and then, subtly, to Vader. Her very soul trembled, caught in an unspeakable storm of hurt and grief that churned within her. How could they have done this? The question echoed endlessly in her mind, an ache that refused to fade. And how could Anakin have kept it from her – his own wife? Perhaps worst of all, he knew how much this had wounded her, how bereft and betrayed it had left her but he still stood by Vader's side, content to inflict the same pain on Bail and Breha. All because his brother had asked him to.
Once, Anakin's fierce loyalty to his twin had endeared him to her. The unshakable bond between the brothers had shone so brightly in her eyes, a thing of beauty and rarity. But now… it felt tainted. Somewhere along the way, the bond had become poisoned, though Padme couldn't pinpoint exactly when, or how, it had begun to spread. All she knew was that it was infecting everything, including their marriage.
Couldn't Anakin see the path Vader was leading him down? Did he truly not see the damage being done?
Padme knew he was a good person – the best person she had ever known. She clung to that belief even now when it felt more fragile than ever. But his love for his brother outshone everything else. It blinded him to the truth, leaving him deaf to her pleas. How could she compete with a bond so deeply rooted, so fiercely protected?
She had to make him see. She had to. But how? The question hung heavy in her heart, unanswered.
Across the wide table, Bail's dark eyes found hers. Something gleamed within them, something knowing and nervous. The tight expression on her friend's face dried out Padme's mouth, leaving her stomach twisting with unease. A thousand emotions swelled inside her, each one clamouring for attention, and she felt Anakin's gaze shift to her, sensing the storm building within. Tearing her eyes away from the Senator, unable to bear the silent plea she saw there, she instead turned her attention to the great arched window overlooking the vast Alderaan skyline. The beauty of the view, with its pristine peaks and glistening spires, only served to deepen the ache inside her.
"What's wrong, beloved?" Anakin murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. The warm gentleness of his hand settled on her thigh. After a moment their eyes met and she let her fingers find his beneath the table, entwining them together. His touch was steady and familiar comfort, but it couldn't dispel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her. This was not the place for the painful, honest conversation she wanted to have with him. The conversation they had already shouted, sighed and seethed at each more times than she could count these past weeks.
Squeezing his fingers, Padme shook her head, her thoughts spinning fast enough to leave a dull ache pressing behind her temples. She leaned in closer, her voice a gentle whisper meant only for him. "Anakin, I'm afraid…" She glanced toward the others sitting mere inches away, praying her words would not be overheard. "I don't like what we're doing by supporting this – or the people this will force us to become. It's not right. It's not us."
For a moment, his expression softened, something flickering in his blue eyes – understanding, maybe, or regret. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the stubborn determination she had come to know too well. "We'll talk about this later," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.
Padme swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. She wanted to believe him, to trust that later would bring clarity, resolution, or even just a sliver of hope. But the storm inside her didn't subside. It raged on, whispering fears she couldn't yet put into words.
Finally, Vader stood, clearing his throat, a deliberate sound that commanded the room into silence. At his full height, clad in exquisite robes of deep black with intricate silver threading, and adorned with his favoured silver crown, he was night triumphant. The embodiment of the dark sky and starlight brought to life before their eyes. Power radiated from him, cold and unrelenting, like moonlight slicing through the shadowed expanse. Every movement, every detail, boasted pride, strength, and an unshakable authority that no one dared question.
No one in the galaxy would ever suspect the truth of him, the carefully constructed lie they all worked tirelessly to protect. The truth that, if revealed, could shatter the illusion of his invincibility and bring everything crashing down. No one would ever suspect that Vader was sick and suffering, that nothing currently known in the galaxy could heal him. But Padme knew. She could reveal the truth, she realized, her gaze flicking to Bail and Breha once more. Perhaps this truth could change everything. A forced abdication could prevent needless war and could save thousands, no, millions, of lives.
The thought burned brightly in her mind. Perhaps one day, when he was healing and free from the weight of all of this, Vader might even understand her betrayal. Perhaps, when the galaxy flourished again, he might even thank her for it. "Before we begin," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, a smile curving his lips as if they were old friends gathering for a social visit, "I would like to thank our gracious hosts for their warm welcome this morning." Queen Breha and Bail exchanged tense glances, their cordial smiles straining against the tightness of their expressions. Vader continued, unperturbed by their unease. "And I would implore them to ponder the importance of pride against the quality of life for the people of Alderaan – who thrive under the protection of the Empire."
The room stilled for a beat, thick with unspoken words. Then something bitter and sharp escaped Bail's lips, caught somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. Breha's hand darted out, resting on her husband's arm as though to steady him – or hold him back. Her expression was pained but resolute. "So the distressing information we have received from King Thule is correct, then?" She said, her tone measured but icy. Her mouth pursed, her midnight eyes flashing with controlled anger. "You intend to threaten us with this great weapon of yours."
Despite the anger simmering beneath her words, Breha's voice did not waver. Her strength shone through, a sharp contrast to the veiled menace of Vader's polite facade. Padme felt the air grow heavier as the Queen's words hung between them, a challenge cloaked in regal dignity. She tightened her fingers around Anakin's beneath the table, willing herself to remain calm.
The game, it seemed, had begun.
"I would never threaten a subject of my Empire so long as they follow the commands of their Emperor," Vader said smoothly, lowering himself into his seat with deliberate care. His voice was steady, almost soothing, as though he were offering reassurance rather than veiled dominance. "The demonstration provided to Thule was merely a reminder of the power he had the opportunity to ally himself – and his planet – with. The strength of the Empire grows every single day, whereas independent systems falter and tumble beneath petty political disputes. The protection and trade we offer cannot be matched. The Death Star is a tool of preservation and security, under which Alderaan and your people will flourish."
The room remained heavy with tension as his words hung in the air, their calm delivery only heightening the menace beneath. Three chairs down from Bail, one of Breha's advisors sneered, his dark eyes blazing with defiance. "Unlike certain people at this table, we will not whore ourselves to you Skywalkers!" The inky-haired man spat, baring his teeth like a feral animal. "Alderaan will not cower… your Majesty."
Padme's heart shot into her throat as all eyes in the room snapped to her. The insult hit like a physical blow, her chest tightening as fire licked at her cheeks. Was this what people thought of her now? That she had betrayed her own homeworld? That she had failed to protect the freedom of her people? "I…" she began, her voice trembling, but years of political training failed her. Whatever defence she might have offered died in her throat, smothered by the suffocating silence that followed. The weight of their judgment bore down on her. Crushing.
But that dreadful quiet was shattered by Anakin's voice, cold and sinister, like black death. "For your sake, I hope your words were not meant as an insult to my wife." He leaned forward, pressing his palms onto the table and the thick, painted wood groaned beneath his weight. The very air in the room seemed to bend, trembling under the might of his power. The warning was palpable, a crackling threat that sent chills skittering down spines. "Because if they were…" His voice dropped even lower, dangerous and lethal. "You will not enjoy the consequences."
The advisor's defiance faltered for a moment, a flicker of fear betraying him before he straightened, his jaw tightening. Breha's hand clenched around the edge of the table, her face pale but composed, while Bail's knuckles turned white where they gripped the armrests.
Padme's own fingers curled into her lap, her nails biting into her palms. She wanted to speak, to ease the tension suffocating the room, but the words just refused to come under the weight of her mortification. Instead, she turned to Anakin, praying he could temper his anger before it consumed him. But all she saw was the warning, the fury he barely kept in check. "Anakin," she hissed, gripping the sleeve of his cloak so tightly her knuckles turned white and ached. This meeting was already strained enough, the last thing anyone needed was threats being thrown across the table, escalating the fragile accord into something irreparable. But her husband refused to relent. Instead, he took her hand into his own, his expression tight and unyielding as he stared down the broadly built advisor.
The man, either incredibly brave or utterly foolish, refused to look away. Instead, his face twisted into a vicious sneer, defiance radiating from every rigid muscle.
"Apologize," Anakin spat, his voice low and venomous. "Stand up, look my wife in the eye, and apologize. Profusely."
A cold, sensual chuckle sliced through the suffocating tension, its sharpness like the claw of a feline predator. Vader leaned back in his chair, his smirk cutting as he glanced toward the ashen Queen. "I would advise," he drawled, his tone deceptively light, "that your council are taught to respect their betters, Breha. It's a skill that will serve them well in the days to come."
Breha's hand trembled as she released her grip on the table, her composure faltering ever so slightly. Beside her, Bail cleared his throat, his eyes darting between the advisor, Padme and Anakin, searching for the right words to diffuse the situation before it spiralled any further.
"Maxir," Bail said, his voice wavering slightly, though he squared his shoulders with practised resolve. "Padme Naberrie-Skywalker is not only an old and respected friend of your Queen and I, but a Princess of the Empire by marriage. You will apologize."
Padme's heart sank as she felt Anakin's tension beside her, his body as immovable as stone. He would not yield, not until Bail and Breha forced their councillor to bend. She squeezed his fingers, silently pleading for him to let this go, it wasn't worth it, but it was clear he wouldn't – not until justice, or his version of it, was served.
Breha finally raised her chin, her voice sharp and authoritative. "And you will leave this room at once," she commanded, fixing Maxir with a gaze that brokered no argument. Her expression was carefully void, a mask Padme couldn't decipher. But deep down, she couldn't shake the gnawing question – did Breha secretly agree with her advisor's bitter words? They had been close once, but years and circumstances had driven them further apart than Padme liked to admit. "The path ahead has many obstacles," she continued, her tone steady but cold. "We do not need one of our own throwing more in our way."
Maxir sneered, rising to his feet so suddenly that his chair screeched in protest and toppled over, landing at his booted heels with a resounding crash. His narrowed green eyes locked onto Anakin's furious gaze, and Padme held her breath, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on.
"I will do as my Queen commands…" Maxir hissed, his voice low and venomous. "But my apology does not change the facts of the matter." His tanned hand rose, trembling with rage, to point directly at Padme. "She is – " The words died in his throat. His eyes widened in sudden horror as his hand flew to his throat, clutching desperately. He wheezed and coughed, his furious tirade falling silent.
No. Not silent – silenced.
The Alderaan delegation froze, their faces etched with shock and horror, their gazes darting between Maxir and Anakin. Wide-eyed, Padme turned to her husband, giving a small cry as her eyes landed on his outstretched arm, his fist closing steadily in midair. "What are you doing?" She whispered, "Stop it!"
But Anakin's expression was carved from stone, his fury radiating off him in palpable waves. Whatever chance they'd had at true diplomatic negotiations today was dead. The white-haired councillor's face reddened as his wide, frantic eyes darted around the room, pleading silently for mercy – for someone to stop this. No one moved. The air itself seemed frozen, weighted by terror.
Padme almost felt the invisible hand around her own throat.
"Take this as a warning," Anakin said, his voice low and menacing as he leaned closer to the quaking man. Maxir's face, pale as snow where it wasn't stained with panicked tears, trembled. "If your serpent tongue speaks my wife's name ever again, I will make you suffer in ways your small, narrow mind cannot comprehend. Now… apologize!"
The room seemed to hold its breath as Anakin's fist slowly unfurled. The moment his grip released, Maxir collapsed onto the table, gasping and wheezing as much-needed air filled his desperate lungs. His legs gave out beneath him and he groaned in terror, unable to rise as the other members of the Alderaan delegation rushed to his side. Their glares burned at Anakin, Vader, and even Padme, their outrage tangible.
Across the table, Bail's horrified eyes found hers, pleading silently for some kind of answer. Padme opened her mouth, searching for words to smooth this over, to make it right, but there was nothing – no apology strong enough, no words powerful enough to undo what had just transpired.
"Anakin," she said at last, her voice carefully controlled, her years of political training lending her tone a levelness she didn't feel. Her husband turned to her, furious blue eyes meeting hers, his entire frame still taut with restrained power. But as their gazes locked, something shifted. The hard lines of his expression softened and the tension that had hardened his body melted away. "I believe you've made your point, my love," Padme said, her tone calm but laced with an edge of steel. She held his gaze, unflinching, willing him to understand the severity of what he'd just done.
Anakin's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, simply lowering his hand as the silence in the room deepened. Around them, the damage had been done. Padme could feel the eyes of everyone in the room, a mix of anger, fear, and disgust, all burning into her.
Reluctance painted his tight expression. He hadn't managed to drag the pitiful apology he wanted so badly from Maxir's lips, but he understood her well enough to sense how she was feeling, even without his powers whispering her rippling into his ear. Slowly, his hand slid into hers again – the same hand he had just used to hurt someone with such casualness and Padme bit back the wave of revulsion that rose in her throat. She stood, her fingers tightening in his as she led him from the silent room.
The wide, yawning pale-blue doors of the palace's grandest meeting room slid shut behind them with a soft hiss. The moment they were alone, she whirled around, dropping Anakin's hand as if his touch burned her skin. "How could you?" she demanded, her voice sharp with disbelief and fury. "What were you thinking, Anakin?"
"I wasn't going to just sit there and let him insult you," he hissed back, folding his arms across his broad chest. His eyes burned with intensity, his jaw set in defiance. "I couldn't stand to hear it."
Padme's eyes fell shut heavily, her chest rising and falling with the effort to steady herself. He's always like this. So quick to anger, so quick to let his emotions flare and guide his actions instead of his head. After everything they had been through, after everything they had survived, he had never learned. He had never changed! For a fleeting moment, the darkness behind her closed eyes shifted, becoming the broken, bleeding body of Varlo Hedsard. The memory flashed vivid and raw, forcing a shudder through her. But no. This isn't the same. The circumstances were vastly different. She couldn't compare the two, it wouldn't be fair.
"Anakin…" she sighed, rubbing her fingers across her forehead as a sharp ache began to form between her eyes. Her voice softened, tinged with exhaustion. "We're public figures. People are always going to have opinions about us and what we do. You've lived this way your entire life – you know this better than I ever could." Her voice cracked as she tried and failed to swallow the lump forming in her throat. "We can't just… lose ourselves to anger every time someone disagrees with us. We can't threaten or hurt everyone who challenges us."
Her words lingered between them, heavy and unyielding. Anakin's arms remained folded, his posture rigid, but his gaze faltered ever so slightly. The fire in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something much harder to read – something that almost looked like shame but was too fleeting to possibly be certain.
"You think I'm proud of what I did back there?" He asked after a long silence, his voice low and edged with bitterness. "Well, I'm not. But I won't stand by and let people disrespect you, Padme! Not when I can stop it."
Her heart began to ache fiercely, torn between the love she felt for him and the fury that his actions had caused. "Respect doesn't come from fear, Anakin," she said quietly, her voice a whisper in the empty hall. "You can't make people respect us by crushing them. That's not who we are. That's not who you are." Her words hung in the air, unanswered, as for a moment, Anakin said nothing, his jaw tightening as he turned his gaze away. Padme's shoulders slumped as the ache behind her eyes deepened.
"You are my family, my wife, Padme. I won't tolerate anyone disrespecting you," Anakin muttered bitterly at last. His voice was low, strained, as though the words were being dragged from some hidden part of him. His eyes avoided hers, darting to the floor and then away entirely as he turned his back to her, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight as he rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. Padme's frown deepened as she watched him retreat into himself before her eyes. "I know… I know you wish that I was, but I'm not like Vader," he said quietly, voice cracking under the strain. "I'm not as refined, not as in control… I never have been, but I…" He trailed off with a half-shrug, the unfinished thought hanging in the air like a blade poised to strike.
And strike it did, those horrible words knifed through her, sharp and unrelenting. She flinched, as though their blow had been physical. Was that really what he thought? That she compared him to his brother and found him lacking? That she saw Vader's calculated composure as a standard Anakin could never meet? The very idea left her breathless with sorrow. "Anakin…" She shook her head, even though his back was still to her. "That just isn't true!" Her voice sounded small, weak even to her ears, but she couldn't summon the strength to speak any louder. She was reeling, caught so off guard that she didn't know how to begin processing what he'd said. She loved him! Surely he knew that… He had to know that. Didn't their conversation in the meadow mean anything to him? What more could she possibly do or say to make him believe her?
He finally turned around and Padme whimpered at the anguish etched into his face, the pain shining in his beautiful ocean eyes. Where was all this coming from? How long had he been carrying these doubts? "Please, we need to – " she tried to begin, stepping closer, but he shook his head, cutting her off.
"I have to go back inside," Anakin muttered, his voice flat, his gaze distant and unattainable. He stepped close, pressing a kiss to her forehead that was soft but agonizingly detached, as though some unseen barrier had risen between them. "I won't make you endure going back in there with me," he added, his tone low, almost gentle.
Before she could gather her thoughts – before she could say something, anything, he turned and slipped back through the heavy doors of the meeting room. They slid closed behind him with a soft, final hiss.
Padme stood frozen in the sprawling hallway, her breath caught in her chest, her mind racing but unable to keep up with the tide of emotions crashing through her. Devastation, confusion and heartbreak all swirled together, leaving her rooted to the spot as the events of the day threatened to overwhelm her.
She pressed trembling fingers to her forehead, where his kiss still lingered and let out a shaky breath.
How had it come to this?
Vader's sharp gaze followed Anakin as he returned alone, his stride brisk and his expression unreadable. Glancing over his shoulder to where the doors were silently sliding shut behind him, the Emperor sighed deeply as disappointment gutted him. So Padme opted not to return, he mused, his lips curving into a faint, disappointed frown.
She had become adept at avoiding him, playing every game, employing every trick in her arsenal to elude his attempts to engage with her. It left him starved for her presence, half-mad, and he hated that fact as much as he was consumed by it. Even now, simply sitting in the same room as her had been a balm to the endless frustration coiled within him and a distraction from the raging guilt burning inside him whenever his thoughts wandered to his wife. He'd find a way to apologise profusely to Arievel upon his return, something beyond words as his actions were not something he was proud of. That wasn't the man Vader wanted to be.
For now, his gaze flicked back to his brother as Anakin resumed his seat. His movements were sharp, his body wound tight but his face betrayed nothing. Unable to help himself, Vader extended his senses, catching the barest glimpse of the storm raging within his twin before his mental shields slid into place, slamming shut like durasteel doors, blocking him out completely.
Whatever fight they had outside must have been brutal, Vader concluded, a flicker of sympathy stirring within him despite himself. Anakin's emotions, though fleeting in their exposure, had been raw and overpowering. Hurt, frustration and a deep ache that Vader recognized all too well clouded his thoughts. That pang of sympathy tightened briefly in his chest before he pushed it aside. Such feelings were a luxury he couldn't afford to focus on at the present moment.
"So you mean to threaten Alderaan into submission?" Breha's voice was sharp as she slapped her palms against the smooth surface of the table, the sound reverberating in the tense silence.
Ah, yes, that was right… He was in the middle of something.
"You come here to show us the power of this… this terrible weapon of yours to frighten us? Is that what this is?" Her eyes blazed as her words cut through the room. Beside her, Bail stroked the deep blue fabric of her robes, his expression grim, though his silence spoke volumes.
Vader sighed internally, though his composure remained as steady as ever. How many times would he have to repeat himself? "Standing amongst the systems within the Empire is a wise decision," he drawled, his tone measured. "We offer security, trade, and a voice in Imperial legislation. What do the independent systems offer you, Breha? Chaos." His gaze fixed on her, unyielding. "Alderaan is a peaceful planet and I wish to honour that—as its one true leader."
A quiet, bitter laugh sputtered from the Queen's lips. Breha shook her head, leaning back in her chair with a defiance that radiated from her every movement.
"You speak of chaos, Majesty, but Alderaan has known only peace and stability under my rule. As it has for generations of my blood on this throne." Her voice did not waver, though her tone carried the sharp edge of steel. "But you… your family brings only death and war. Look at Mandalore! How is it faring since the Duchess joined your court? I will not bow to your threats. Alderaan is strong enough to stand alone."
Vader grew still, his frame rigid as the weight of her words settled over the room. Her mention of Satine struck a chord he wasn't prepared to confront, not here, not now – not in this first preliminary meeting. Still, his powers flared within him, surging like a storm held barely in check, urging him to unleash the fury he kept coiled tight. Anakin's earlier outburst was nothing compared to what he could do if provoked, maybe these people needed to be reminded of that. His teeth bared slightly, a snarl threatening to escape as he fought to maintain control.
"Mandalore is a disastrous waste of potential," he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "On the verge of being ruled by heathens and beasts." Something in his chest twisted at the words, a pang of something he refused to name. He could almost see Satine's face if she'd heard him say such a thing, her sharp eyes, her poised demeanour, the disappointment she would never voice but that would cut deeper than any insult. But she was gone now, returned to the chaos of her fractured system. Her decisions had been her own. "If it were fortunate enough to come under Imperial rule," Vader continued, his tone hardening, "they would see immediate stabilization. Unlike the fragile peace they pretend to cling to now."
The room's tension thickened as Director Krennic leaned forward, breaking the taut silence. "We have come here in good faith," he began smoothly, his tone oozing diplomacy, "to offer Alderaan power. And wealth! Your people will benefit in untold ways if you can swallow your pride and follow Thule's example. Naboo continues to thrive now that the Emperor has taken full control."
"And if we refuse?" Bail asked, his voice steady but grim as he set his shoulders. His expression was resolute, but there was no mistaking the steel in his eyes.
Vader narrowed his gaze, the air in the room chilling instantly as he leaned further across the table. "I will accept no refusal."
Three hours later
The bright, colourful cocktail glistened in Padme's hand, its vibrant layers of orange, pink, and blue catching the warm, low light of the grand hall. A tiny, star-shaped garnish perched atop the rim, its cheerfulness at odds with the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Dorme had pushed the drink into her hands only a few moments ago, her smile tight but hopeful as she tried to lift her plummeting spirit.
Padme had taken it without argument, lacking the energy to protest. Now, she stood alone in a sea of flowing gowns and perfectly tailored uniforms, her presence both noticed and ignored. The room hummed with the soft murmur of voices – Grand Moffs and Alderaan officials locked in polite conversations that carried the subtle undercurrent of tension. Crystal glasses clinked and faint strains of music drifted from a trio of musicians tucked into a corner.
Her dress, an elegant, backless gown of deep indigo, clung to her figure with the kind of perfection that made her the subject of far too many glances. The silken fabric shimmered like starlight when she moved, pooling at her feet like liquid night. A delicate golden chain crisscrossed her exposed back, teasing her with its cold touch now and again.
She'd packed the dress with a purpose – not for diplomacy or decorum, but to entice. To tease her husband to madness while they were trapped in the monotony of diplomatic purgatory for a few hours. It had been meant as a bit of fun, a playful distraction from the weight of everything else that loomed over them.
She knew exactly what her affinity for backless dresses did to him. The way his gaze would darken, his breathing hitching ever so slightly as his fingers itched to trace the bare skin left tantalizingly exposed. It was a small power she held over him, one that she wielded with purpose. But now, as the fabric clung to her skin and the golden chain glimmered delicately along her back, it felt wrong. Hollow. The dress, meant to spark a smile or a mischievous glint in Anakin's eyes, now seemed like a mocking reflection of what wasn't right between them.
Padme's fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, her discomfort growing with every passing moment. She felt the weight of the stares from across the room, some curious, some calculated and bitter. She was long accustomed to attention, but without Anakin by her side, while everything felt so precarious, it felt unbearable. Dorme had meant well, but no amount of bright cocktails could help the unease settling deep in her chest.
Her mind wasn't even in the room. It was still caught on Anakin's words from earlier.
"I know… I know you wish I was, but I'm not like Vader."
The memory of his voice, raw and vulnerable, echoed in her thoughts, stealing her breath and twisting her heart to agony. All this time, she'd thought the past was where it belonged – dead and buried far behind them. But apparently, its shadow had been haunting their marriage all this time without her ever noticing.
How had she missed it? Had she been so consumed by herself, her own struggles, that she hadn't seen the insecurities festering in Anakin? Her chest ached as the realization settled over her like a heavy cloak. The man she loved had been quietly comparing himself to his brother, believing himself to fall short in her eyes, and she hadn't noticed it.
Guilt lashed her like a whip, sharp and unrelenting. She wanted to shake her head, to dispel all of the wretched thoughts clawing at her, but they clung stubbornly, refusing to let go. Every beautiful, intimate moment she and Anakin had shared since coming back together played through her mind's eye, each one now tainted by the weight of hindsight. She scrutinized every tender glance, every whispered word, searching desperately for the cracks she hadn't noticed before. Had there been subtle signs in the way he held her a moment longer than usual, as though afraid she might slip away? Or in the quiet, brooding silences that had once felt like rare moments of peace but now seemed like something far darker?
"Padme!" The sound of her name snapped her out of her spiralling thoughts and she blinked, her gaze darting to find Bail approaching, his expression warm but tinged with concern. He was dressed in a formal tunic, the deep blue fabric matching the tone of his wife's dress. "You've been standing all by yourself for quite some time," he said gently, his eyes searching hers. "Is everything alright?"
Padme forced a smile, lifting the cocktail slightly as though it were some sort of shield. "Just… taking a moment to think," she replied, her voice smooth but hollow. "I… Bail, I'm sorry about what happened before. Anakin's behaviour was completely unacceptable. How is Maxir, is he alright?"
Bail studied her for a beat longer, his brow furrowing slightly before he nodded. "You have nothing to apologise for. I believe Maxir learned a valuable lesson today on the importance of keeping your opinions private while navigating a political career." He said, his tone laced with sincerity.
She inclined her head, murmuring a soft word of thanks before he stepped away, leaving her once again alone in the sea of finely dressed officials.
Padme's eyes drifted to the glass in her hand, the cocktail still untouched. Its bright, cheerful hues felt like an insult to the weight pressing on her chest. She tilted her head back slightly, letting the golden chain along her spine shift against her skin as she gazed up at the ornate chandelier above, its light refracting in a hundred directions, casting fleeting rainbows along the polished floor.
Her heart felt unbearably heavy, the weight of guilt and confusion pressing against her chest like a physical ache. She knew she and Vader had more in common than she did with Anakin. It wasn't a truth she liked to dwell on, but it was undeniable. They shared similar tastes in culture, the same strong passions for music and art and a shared appreciation for the intricate details of the galaxy's history and traditions. Maybe that was part of what had drawn her to him for so long. Those long, easy conversations about composers, painters and ancient philosophies had felt effortless in a way that other connections often didn't. They seemed harmless at the time, those moments of camaraderie born of shared interests. But now, as the memories resurfaced in the quiet of her mind, they felt less innocent.
Padme bit her lip, her hands trembling slightly. She'd never noticed Anakin paying any attention to those exchanges. He'd always seemed disinterested, standing on the sidelines with a faintly bemused expression or, more often, wandering off entirely and leaving them to it. She had thought nothing of it, assuming that his lack of interest meant indifference, but for the first time, she realized how wrong she might have been. How blind.
Had Anakin seen more than she'd thought? Had he watched those conversations, those moments of connection and felt the sting of exclusion? Had he noticed how easily she and Vader fell into step, their shared passions weaving a thread between them that Anakin could never seem to touch? Padme suddenly wanted to cry as the truth settled over her with suffocating clarity. She'd never even considered how her relationship with Vader – her friendship with him – might have made Anakin feel.
Worse, she hadn't thought about how her choices, her moments of weakness, might still linger like a shadow over their marriage. He forgave me, she thought desperately, clinging to the memory of them on that beautiful beach, creating a peaceful resting place for the child they almost had. He had forgiven her, hadn't he?
But forgiveness wasn't the same as forgetting. And as she thought back to the raw vulnerability in his voice earlier, she realized, with a pang of fresh guilt, that he hadn't forgotten. He had carried it with him, quietly, silently, letting it fester in the background while she had foolishly assumed they were long past it.
Padme's chest tightened, and she pressed her lips together to keep the tears at bay. Does that make me selfish she wondered, the thought twisting painfully. Had her failure to notice his pain, her inability to see the shadow lingering over him, been another yet betrayal? Had her carelessness wounded the man she loved all over again?
She blinked rapidly, willing the tears to stay hidden. There was no space for this here – not in this room full of watchful eyes and sharp ears. So Padme turned toward the massive windows, letting her gaze settle on the stunning view beyond. The sunset painted the sky in hues of deep orange and soft lavender, fading behind the jagged peaks of the distant mountains. It should have been calming, breathtaking even, but tonight it felt like a cruel mockery. The beauty of the scene contrasted sharply with the storm raging inside her.
She forced herself to lift the damned cocktail to her lips, taking a small sip of the too-sweet concoction Dorme had insisted would cheer her up, but the bright flavours barely registered on her tongue. All she could taste was the bitterness of her thoughts, an acrid edge that refused to leave.
Trying to appear normal, to feign the serene composure expected of her in a room full of powerful politicians and important figures, her fingers tightened around the glass, the delicate stem cool against her hand as she willed herself to keep her expression neutral. She knew the eyes of the room might drift toward her at any moment, assessing, judging. She could not afford to falter, not here. But no amount of composure could shield her from the unbearable thought stabbing into her heart again and again. How the hell did her marriage stand a chance?
It was a question she'd never expected to ask herself before, but now, it loomed over her like a shadow, dark and unyielding. The cracks were there and she could finally, running deep and jagged through the foundation of their love. She'd ignored them for so long, believing that time and effort alone would mend those fractures. That their love was strong enough to endure anything.
But was it?
The pain in Anakin's voice earlier had been unmistakable. He believed it. He truly believed that she wanted him to be more like his brother. She closed her eyes, her breath hitching as she tried to steady herself. Is that what she'd done? Had she truly made him feel like he wasn't not enough? Like he had to compete with Vader for my affection?
The thought twisted painfully in her chest. She loved Anakin. She loved him with everything she was. He wasn't a perfect man but hadn't all of this demonstrated that she wasn't perfect either? No one was! Padme's grip on the glass faltered and she quickly steadied it, casting a fleeting glance around the room. No one seemed to notice her momentary lapse, their attention occupied by their conversations and petty power plays. She forced herself to take another sip of the cocktail, the cloying sweetness making her stomach churn.
They had to talk. Padme had waited, pacing the confines of their rooms long after she knew the meeting had ended. She'd hoped that Anakin would come back, that they could speak before the night dragged them into the suffocating dance of politics and appearances.
But he hadn't come.
She'd dismissed Dorme and Teckla when they arrived to help her prepare, putting them off with polite but strained excuses. She'd waited as long as she could, staring at the door, willing it to open and reveal her husband. The longer the chrono ticked, the harder it became to keep her composure. With every passing minute, the gnawing ache of disappointment grew stronger, pressing against her chest.
Eventually, she'd accepted the inevitable – this conversation would have to wait. With a heavy heart, she allowed Dorme and Teckla to enter and began the routine of dressing and preparing, though her mind was far from the task at hand. The weight of the dress, the cold brush of the chains across her back and the tightness of her hair pinned perfectly in place all felt like a cage, trapping her in a role she wasn't sure she could play tonight.
When she'd entered the grand hall, her eyes immediately scanned the room. She searched every face, every shadow, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But Anakin wasn't here.
Maybe he just wasn't coming at all.
The thought made her breath catch in her throat, imagining an empty seat beside her, with all those eyes watching, all the judgments bearing down on her, made her feel ill. She knew this trip was going to be difficult, but this was just unbearable.
But what choice did she have? If he needed space – if this was how he needed to process everything, then she would have to accept it. As much as it hurt, as much as it left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, she wouldn't push him further. Not yet. Not tonight.
Padme stood at the edge of her resolve, teetering on the verge of shattering. The weight of the room was pressing down on her, every glance, every laugh, every clink of crystal was like a hammer against the fragile walls she had built around herself. The idea of staying even a moment longer felt impossible. She could slip out now, return to their rooms, and forget this entire night. Let the eyes of the galaxy think what they would.
But before she could move, a hand touched her arm – gentle, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks. She froze, her breath catching and turned to find Vader standing beside her, his brow furrowed, concern etched into his otherwise unyielding features. "I can sense how upset you are," he said softly, his voice pitched low enough that only she could hear. "Are you alright?"
Padme's throat tightened. Her arm felt like it burned where his hand rested and she snatched it away as though his touch seared her. Her heart was racing and she hated that he could see the tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "No!" She hissed, her voice trembling with anger and something far more raw. "No, I don't want to talk right now and least of all with you!" Her words struck harder than she intended but she didn't care. Why wouldn't he just leave her alone? Why did he have to invade her so utterly, slithering into her head, into her heart, in ways she despised? He always seemed to find her weakest moments, exposing things she wanted to keep buried. And the worst part? Her husband saw it too. "I don't have the capacity for you tonight, Vader," she spat, the sharpness of her tone drawing a few curious glances from nearby guests. She barely noticed. "Why don't you go talk to your own wife if you're bored?"
Her words cut through the air like a blade and she saw the flicker of hurt in his expression, quickly masked by the surprise that followed. This was probably the last thing he expected to hear her say and for a moment, Vader seemed at a loss for words. Something inside of her twisted with regret yet again… but only for a moment. If I've hurt one Skywalker today, why not hurt them both? She thought bitterly, hating herself for the sharpness of the thought but feeling too raw to take it back.
Without another word, she turned on her heel, storming away from him. She slammed her cocktail down onto a nearby table, the bright liquid sloshing against the rim before settling, abandoned. The murmurs around her grew louder, but she didn't care. She needed space, needed air, needed to get away from him – from all of it.
Before she could make her escape, the soft chime of a bell echoed through the hall, and a gleaming silver droid announced that dinner was ready. Guests began to file toward the adjoining room and Padme had no choice but to take a deep breath and compose herself. She wiped her eyes quickly, praying no one would notice her moment of weakness as she followed the crowd. She'd made it this far into the evening – she could make it a little further.
Just as she steadied herself, preparing to enter the dining room, a figure appeared at her side. She glanced up, preparing for the mundanity of polite small talk but her companion wasn't a Moff or delegation member at all! "Anakin," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "You came."
He was there. He'd come. Relief surged through her, warming her from head to toe and for a fleeting moment, she thought everything might be alright again. But all that warmth quickly faded as she noticed the distance in his expression. His eyes were steady but unreadable, his face carefully blank. "Padme," he said, offering his arm to her in a gentlemanly motion. His tone was polite, measured and just far too controlled.
She hesitated, her joy dimming. Did he come only for appearances? The thought pierced her, but she forced herself to take his arm. Even if it was just a pretence, the feel of his warmth against her skin was better than nothing. As he led her into the dining room, the weight of every gaze settled on them like a suffocating blanket but they were the very image of unity.
They didn't speak as they took their seats. Padme sat beside him, her hands folding in her lap, trembling slightly as she focused on the place setting before her. Silence stretched between them and she thought perhaps it was for the best. Words felt too fragile, too risky in such a public setting.
But in her heart, she couldn't stop the desperate hope that when this dinner was over, they might finally find their way back to each other.
A/N:Let me warn you now... Shit is GOING DOWN in the next chapter and nothing will ever be the same. Here's a little synopsis of what's coming:
As the royal delegation departs Alderaan, Padmé and Anakin's marriage teeters on the brink, with Vader's presence only complicating things further. Amid rising tensions, outside forces set their plans into motion, altering the fate of Padme, the Skywalker brothers, and the galaxy forever.