"I hate to see you this upset," Vader sighed as the delegation's footsteps echoed against the polished floors of The Executor. The flagship was as imposing as ever, a true marvel of Imperial engineering – Anakin's pride and joy, as he often reminded anyone who'd listen. But Padme didn't have the energy to care about its size, speed, or capabilities at the moment. Whatever qualities Anakin so loved about this ship were lost on her.

They walked in silence through the stark, sterile corridors, the bright white walls amplifying every footstep, every quiet sigh. Heading towards the bridge, where the delegation was expected to regroup before the ship made its departure, all Padme wanted was to retreat to her rooms, climb into bed, and stay there until this nightmare of a trip became nothing but a distant memory.

It had been terrible. From start to finish, nothing had gone as she hoped. Instead of progress, instead of healing and mending the rift between her and Anakin, things had only gotten so much worse. Her chest tightened as her thoughts drifted back to him. How could two people possibly be more angry with each other? The thought consumed her as the party marched forward. Her mind felt like a tangled mess of emotions she couldn't begin to sort out, all the frustration, the anger, the heartbreak – it churned together into something heavy and suffocating.

And yet, despite her own complicated feelings, what hurt her most was knowing Anakin was hurting. It killed her to imagine the storm she knew must be raging inside him right now. She would prefer all-out screaming, a full-blown fight, anything over this silent agony, especially when she was the cause. He would never have lashed out with that awful comment if he was just angry with her. Their parting words, no matter how brief the separation, were always loving and kind, a small reassurance that even in the chaos of their lives, they were still tethered to one another always. That comment, about her preferring Vader's company to his own, had been sharp and cutting, designed to wound.

Padme still felt the sting of it now, even as she tried to push it aside. But deep down, she knew she wasn't guiltless. Her answering remark had been far from the height of maturity, a retort born from her own frustration and hurt, words flung without thought to the damage they might cause. They were both better than this – or they used to be. Padme sighed, her steps slowing as her mind replayed the day over and over, dissecting every word, every look. How did they get here?

That question felt as hollow and endless as the corridor they walked.

But she already knew the answer, didn't she? All the tension, the arguments, the misunderstandings – they'd piled up, brick by brick until they were staring at a wall they didn't know how to tear down again. And now, they were lashing out at each other in ways they never had before, ways that frightened her. Because if they couldn't break this cycle, if they couldn't find their way back to the kindness and love that had always been their foundation… Padme didn't even want to think about what might happen next.

Her head began to throb, the stress of it all settling behind her eyes as she mentally listed all the problems they had to juggle as if organizing more neatly them might somehow make them easier to bear. Their marriage, straining to its breaking point. Leia being caught in the crossfire of their tension. The choices they needed to make about their future – where they would live, what their lives would look like, how they could even begin to move forward from all this.

And then there was the thing that was gnawing at the back of her mind like a persistent shadow.

They needed to stop trying for another baby.

The very thought of telling Anakin this sent a pang of guilt straight through her chest, but she knew it was necessary. Everything was too uncertain right now, too unstable. They needed to find their way back to each other, to solid ground, before they even considering growing their family. Padme exhaled shakily, her steps faltering for a moment as the weight of it all just threatened to overwhelm her.

All she wanted was things to get better again. Her heart was aching for the easy love they used to share – the love she knew still lingered beneath all the hurt and anger, waiting for its chance to be properly mended. But how? How could they fix this when the distance between them felt like a chasm too wide to bridge?

Glancing over her shoulder, Padme caught sight of Dorme and Teckla, walking a careful step behind her. Both women wore neutral expressions, their professionalism as impeccable as ever, but she could almost sense their exhaustion. This trip hadn't been easy for them either, she supposed. They'd spent the last few days navigating the unbearable tension between her and Anakin, tiptoeing around outbursts and silences so thick they felt suffocating while ensuring everything else ran smoothly. She made a mental note to give them a few days off once they returned to Naboo. They deserved it more than ever.

But the thought of Naboo, of returning home with all this unresolved pain, made her stomach clench. How could they go back and just pretend everything was fine when it felt like the very foundations of their marriage were crumbling beneath their feet?

"Padme," Vader's gentle voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. She turned her head slightly, catching the golden glint of his eyes as he slowed his pace to walk closer beside her.

"I'm fine," she said curtly, her tone sharper than intended.

He raised an eyebrow, but his steps remained measured. "You're anything but fine."

Padme let out a soft, bitter laugh, her gaze falling to the polished floor. "And whose fault is that?"

Vader's answering silence stretched between them, but it wasn't heavy or defensive. It was thoughtful, calculated in a way that made her stomach twist. What was he thinking about? She wished, not for the first time, that she could glimpse into his mind, to understand the constant swirl of thoughts that never seemed to leave him at peace. His mind worked like a machine, always moving, always planning, always focused on the next step, the next challenge, the next goal…

Never the here and now. Never what he already had.

It had to be exhausting to live like that. Why couldn't he just be? Why couldn't he accept what was instead of always pushing for more, always striving for the next great thing that seemed out of reach? His relentless drive frightened her. It wasn't just ambition – it was a need Vader had, something deep and insatiable, a hunger that never seemed to wane. She wasn't sure he could be satisfied with anything anymore.

Or anyone.

"I don't want to argue with you," he said gently, shattering the silence around them, "I only want to help."

"Help?" She couldn't help but scoff, her eyes snapping up to meet his again. "You've done nothing but make things worse, Vader!"

For a brief moment, something flickered across his face – regret, maybe, or something close to it. But it was gone before she could be sure. "I'll concede I haven't been… perfect," he said carefully, as if choosing his words with great effort. "But Anakin – he's stubborn. Reckless. He doesn't see what's right in front of him. He doesn't value what he's about to lose."

Padme almost stopped in her tracks, nearly tripping over the hemline of her purple cloak. Her breath caught sharply in her throat. How could he say such things so blatantly? She cast a glance over her shoulder, noting the footsteps and hushed murmurs of Dorme and Teckla and the grim faces of the Imperial Officials trailing just a few paces behind. They weren't alone.

How could Vader be so gods damn reckless? So utterly indifferent to the fact that there were people right there, people who would have no trouble picking apart the thinly veiled truth beneath his words? Her heart began to race as her anger flared again, but Padme fought to keep her expression calm, to maintain the composure she'd mastered in the Senate years ago. "And you think you're any better?" She hissed under her breath, her words laced with sharp accusation.

Had he forgotten that she knew him? That she knew his wife?

If anyone in their lives was blind to the pain they caused, it was him. Or perhaps he wasn't blind at all. Maybe he just didn't care.

That thought twisted her stomach into knots. Didn't he care about Arievel at all? Did she mean so little to him? The realization that he didn't – and that not so deep down, Padme already knew that – made her heart ache with a pang of deep, uncomfortable guilt. And then there were her feelings, those unspoken, unwanted, yearning feelings that churned inside her like a storm she couldn't escape. She hated them. Hated that they even existed. Hated herself for not being able to banish them.

Arievel was a good person. A kind person. She didn't deserve this.

And neither did Anakin.

Her chest tightened painfully at the thought of her husband, the man who had always loved her so completely, so unconditionally. He deserved better. Better than this web of deceit and unspoken truths. Better than her and the mess she'd allowed her life to become. Padme felt her throat tighten as the weight of it all crashed over her. This wasn't just a mistake – it was a disaster. A terrible, irreparable disaster.

And she didn't know how to fix it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Vader turn to her, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I know I am," he said levelly, "I meant what I said before, Padme. My… My feelings on the matter are true. I want us to talk about it."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her chest heaving with the weight of everything she wanted to say but couldn't right now. She didn't trust herself to speak, not without everything spilling out in a flood of anger and pain regardless of who was around to hear it. His feelings were true? He really believed that he loved her? How was it possible?

Vader stepped closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "All I want is for you to be happy, Padme. Truly. Whatever it takes."

She felt her heart sink as she met his beautiful, golden eyes, and the sincerity in his voice cut deeper than she wanted to admit. But even as those passionate words lingered between them, doubt and anger still coiled tightly in her chest. How could that possibly be true when he was acting this way? Nothing in his actions promised love, nothing in dragging Naboo under full Imperial control had anything to do with making her happy. The contradiction was maddening, twisting her thoughts into knots. Her head was full to bursting, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of emotions she couldn't untangle.

Vader claimed one thing but his actions screamed the opposite. How could she even begin to trust his words when everything he did stood in direct defiance of what he said? Padme swallowed hard, forcing herself to steady her breathing as frustration and hurt warred within her. She needed time – time to think, to clear her head properly, to make sense of the chaos swirling inside her.

"I'm so furious with you, I can't begin to think about anything else, Vader," she said flatly, her tone devoid of warmth, cutting in its simplicity.

Her words hung in the air between them, a barrier that felt insurmountable. Padme's chest heaved as she fought the urge to lash out further, to pour every ounce of her anger and pain into words that might hurt him as deeply as she was hurting right now.

But she didn't. She wouldn't. Not yet.

"Furious with me because of my political choices, or because of what I said?" His voice was quiet, almost hesitant – so unlike the Vader she knew. The calm veneer he projected in public faltered for a moment, revealing something raw beneath the surface. The question, deceptively simple on the surface, carried a dangerous weight. It was taunting, yes, but it also demanded something from her, something she wasn't sure she was ready – or willing – to give. Vader's words hung in the air like a knife's edge and Padme felt the weight of them pressing against her chest.

She paused mid-step, turning just enough to meet his gaze. His golden eyes burned with intensity, a silent plea wrapped in his question, desperate for something she couldn't define. For a fleeting moment, she considered answering him, letting him see the tangled mess of emotions within her, even if only for a second.

But then she felt it – the weight of the delegation's gaze behind them.

The quiet shuffling of feet, the faint murmur of whispers behind them. She felt the prying eyes of the galaxy on her back, judging. And when her gaze landed on Dorme, her old friend's steady stare was all the confirmation she needed. Her handmaiden tipped her head ever so slightly toward the corridor ahead, her silent advice as clear as if she had spoken aloud – Not here. Not now.

Padme swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Dorme's gentle warning was like a splash of cold water, extinguishing the fire of her emotions and the dangerous temptation to answer Vader right now moment. No matter how much her heart ached, no matter how much she wanted to confront him, this just wasn't the time.

Clearing her throat, she turned forward again, setting her shoulders with purpose and resuming her pace along the corridor. Every step felt heavier than the last as she ignored the tension still crackling in the air between them. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flicker of unease that crossed Vader's face, brief but unmistakable. He hadn't expected her to walk away, hadn't expected her to leave his question unanswered.

Padme hated that flicker. Hated how it twisted something deep inside her, pulling at emotions she didn't want to feel, let alone acknowledge. But she kept moving, her pace steady, her head held high, even as her heart churned with a thousand words left unsaid. She would handle this. Later. In private.

Vader caught up to her with his usual smooth grace, his boots thudding softly against the floor as if nothing had happened. Padme forced her gaze forward, her steps steady, even though she could feel the weight of his eyes on her. It wasn't just a look, it was a presence, a silent challenge, daring her to acknowledge him.

"I've asked Anakin to retire from the military," she said suddenly, her voice carefully bored and dismissive, though her heart was racing. "But he seems to believe you need him more than ever."

From the corner of her eye, she saw his lips quirk into something that might have been a smile, though it was devoid of warmth. A light, humourless laugh fell from his mouth, and he shook his head. "I doubt he'll cling to such notions much longer," Vader muttered, his tone casual but laced with something darker. "From what I sensed earlier, I might just be his least favourite person in the galaxy right now."

Padme's resolve faltered, her steps slowing as Dorme's earlier warning echoed in her mind. But her self-control cracked under the weight of his words and before she could stop herself, she whirled around, her glare sharp and cutting. "And whose fault is that?" She spat, her voice trembling with anger.

Vader raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by her outburst, though his golden eyes flickered with intrigue.

Behind them, someone cleared their throat awkwardly – a reminder of the audience lingering just out of earshot, but Padme didn't care anymore. Let them hear. Let everyone in the whole galaxy know what a failure she was as a wife and what a disaster Vader was as a brother. "Don't you care at all about him?" She demanded, her voice rising, the words tumbling out before she could reel them back. "Couldn't you see how hurt he was?"

Her anger surged, fuelled by the memory of Anakin's wounded expression, the sharpness in his voice, the bitterness that bled into their parting words. She knew he didn't mean what he said – not truly. He was hurting and she hated that. She hated that she had been any part of that pain, but she hated Vader even more for laughing about it now, as though all of this was nothing more than a game to him.

Her voice broke as they reached the turbolift, her emotions spilling over despite her best efforts to contain them. "You say you care about him, but all I see is you tearing him apart! Is that what you want, Vader? For him to hate you? For him to hate himself?"

Vader's mask of calm slipped for a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened, but his voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet. Controlled.

"Of course, I care. He's my brother," Vader sighed, his voice low but resolute. "But Anakin is right – I do need him. I'd be a fool not to utilize every weapon in my arsenal to enforce my peace, even if that weapon would rather set himself upon me more than anyone else right now."

Padme's head reeled, her mind spinning as his words settled over her like a cold, suffocating fog. Enforce his peace. The phrase rattled around in her skull, jarring and foreign. Didn't he see? Didn't he understand that peace wasn't something to be enforced? It felt as if someone had yanked the floor out from beneath her today, leaving her flailing and unsteady, nothing in her world feeling solid or stable anymore.

She didn't know what to believe. How had things come to this? What had changed? And, perhaps more importantly, how had she missed it?

Were there signs, flashing and obvious, that everyone had ignored? Or had things always been this way and she had simply been too distracted – too blinded by Vader's illicit charms, too caught up in her own temptations – to see the truth staring her in the face? Her chest tightened painfully as the questions clawed at her, unrelenting. Maybe if she hadn't been so busy running away… That cut through her like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. If she hadn't buried her head in the sand, maybe she could have seen the shift. Maybe she could have done something to stop it…

Padme wanted to believe she could have made a difference, that if she had been paying closer attention, she might have been able to change his mind, to pull him back from whatever dark path Vader was choosing to walk. But even as the thought formed, doubt crept in, cold and paralyzing. Could she have stopped any of this? Could anyone? Or was this simply who Vader was now, unyielding, calculating, and utterly convinced of his own vision for the galaxy?

Her hands began trembling, her heart pounding as she glanced at him, his expression calm and unreadable as ever, but those words were still ringing in her ears. "Enforce my peace."

Padme wanted to scream, to rail against him, to make him see the glaring flaw in his logic, the damage he was causing. But her voice failed her, her thoughts too tangled to form the argument she so desperately wanted to make.

No. No!

Padme shook her head, a surge of frustration rising in her chest. She had to stop this. She had to stop taking every woe, every problem the galaxy threw at her, and placing it squarely on her shoulders as if she were the only one capable of carrying it. Vader's choices weren't her fault. They weren't her responsibility. And neither was he.

So why, then, did she feel so damn guilty?

Why did it feel like she'd abandoned him? Like her absence had twisted him into the man he was now? Was that why she felt this overwhelming weight, this crushing sense that if she'd just stayed closer, if she hadn't turned away from him, things might have been different? No, she told herself again, more firmly this time, but the guilt refused to let go.

Padme pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, her breath shallow and uneven. Gods, she was so tired. After today – after this entire disastrous trip – she had nothing left to give. She didn't want to fight, didn't want to think about what-ifs or should-haves or could-haves.

All she wanted was to go home.

She wanted to hold Leia, to bury her face in her daughter's sweet-smelling curls and remind herself of the one pure, perfect thing in her life. She wanted to be away from all of this – from the tension, the betrayal, the impossible web of emotions she couldn't untangle.

But she couldn't forget.

It was impossible.

Because Vader said he loved her. The memory hit her like a physical blow and her heart lurched painfully in her chest. Because that… that changed everything.

Padme pressed her hand more firmly against her forehead, willing the thoughts to stop, but they just wouldn't. They couldn't. Vader's words echoed endlessly in her mind, upending everything she thought she knew about him, about herself, about the fragile balance of their lives. She didn't know what to do with any of it. And the truth that scared her the most, the one she couldn't bear to face, was that a part of her didn't want to let go of his words.

No matter how wrong it was, no matter how much it hurt. Because those words, as terrible and life-shattering as they were, touched something inside her she thought she'd buried long ago.

Padme knew Vader's confession should spur her into action. It should force her to confront the truth, one way or another, and make her decide what she truly wanted. It should have been a clarifying moment, one that gave her the resolve to chase what she desired, no matter the consequences. But instead, her shoulders sagged under the weight of it all.

Because it wasn't just Vader's confession that was haunting her – it was the question it left in its wake. Not about him, but about herself.

When had she changed?

Once upon a time, she was boundless with energy and determination, a woman who would never hesitate to do the right thing, no matter how difficult or painful it might be. She'd been fearless in her convictions, a relentless force of righteousness and passion. She would have fought and fought, gone down kicking and screaming before she allowed something she knew to be wrong to happen.

But now…

Padme's gaze dropped to the floor, her hands trembling as she clasped them together. Where was that woman?

She could barely recognize herself anymore. Somewhere along the way, the vibrant, fearless woman she used to be faded, buried under the weight of compromises, heartbreak, and self-doubt. The fire that once burned so brightly in her had dimmed, flickering weakly against the overwhelming darkness of her circumstances.

Was that woman even still inside her?

The question sent a chill through her because she wasn't sure of the answer.

Padme swallowed hard, blinking against the sting of tears as her thoughts churned. If the woman she used to be could see her now – so lost, uncertain, allowing herself to be torn between two men, tangled in a mess of love, duty, and guilt – what would she think?

Would she even recognize herself? Would she approve of the choices she'd made?

Padme didn't know. And that realization cut deeper than anything Vader or Anakin could say.

Because of all her doubts about them – for all her questions about who they were and what they wanted, what terrified her most was that she no longer knew who she was.

How could just a handful of years change someone so completely?

Padme remembered the girl she once was – idealistic, resolute, perhaps a little naive to the true ways of the galaxy, but deeply committed to justice and liberty. That young woman would never have looked the other way, never have let Vader act unchecked, regardless of his proclamations or supposed feelings for her.

But now?

Now she found herself wavering, exhausted, disillusioned, and dangerously close to letting him do whatever he pleased simply because she was tired.

Because he claimed to love her.

Because… she couldn't say with absolute certainty that she didn't feel something for him too.

That thought alone made her stomach churn with guilt and self-loathing.

She couldn't keep living this way.

She needed space – space to breathe, to think, to remember who she was and what she stood for. Space to separate herself from the shadow of Imperial politics and the suffocating weight of Vader's gaze. Going to Naboo was more than just an escape. It was a chance to find herself again, to reconnect with the woman she used to be. And she was going to do something that made her heart feel full again. She wasn't just a senator or a princess or a pawn in the Empire's machinations – she was someone who wanted to help people. To make a difference in lives that didn't involve titles, decrees, or power struggles.

Most importantly, Leia was going to have as normal of a childhood as Padme could give her. A childhood full of laughter, love, and warmth, far away from the chaos and toxicity of the Imperial court.

Padme exhaled deeply. If she ever hoped to understand her own heart again – to figure out where she stood, what she wanted, and what her future looked like – she had to start with herself.

The party stepped into the turbolift, and with a faint hum, it whisked them upward level upon level with remarkable speed. Padme stood stiffly, her hands clasped in front of her, as the silence pressed in around them. Only a handful of moments later, the doors slid open, revealing the vast bridge of The Executor – a gleaming command centre full of screens, monitors, and bustling Officials she had never seen before.

Stepping forward with Vader at her side, Padme heard her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She didn't bother to offer the polite smiles she might have in another life, her energy too depleted for meaningless courtesies, but she noticed some of the officials glance wide-eyed at her as she passed, their stares lingering for just a fraction too long.

Someone cleared their throat awkwardly and the sound rippled through the room like a stone dropped into still water.

Her eyes flicked to the far end of the bridge, where Grand Moff Tarkin stood near a holotable, his gaunt features lit by the faint blue glow of the transmission. He turned his head sharply, glancing over his shoulder at them before returning his attention to the grim figures displayed before him. She recognized Mass Amedda immediately, his imposing figure commanding attention even in holographic form. He stood surrounded by other royal councillors, all with grim, set expressions.

The air in the room shifted.

The sudden silence was suffocating, an unnatural hush that sent a chill racing up Padme's spine. She shivered involuntarily, the hair on her nape standing on end. Something was wrong. Everyone in the room was looking at them now, their eyes wary and uncertain. She glanced back at Dorme, hoping for some silent reassurance, but her friend only offered a subtle shrug, her expression equally perplexed.

"Your Majesty," Tarkin's voice cut through the silence, clipped and formal as always. He stepped away from the holotable, his sharp gaze fixed on Vader.

Padme's heart began to race.

"Something's wrong…" Vader muttered, his voice low and tense as his hand drifted to his chest, fingers curling slightly as if bracing against an invisible weight. His golden eyes narrowed, flicking around the room as though searching for something just beyond sight. "I can sense…" He trailed off, his brow furrowing deeply. "Tarkin! What is it?" He barked suddenly, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade. Without waiting for a response, he stormed forward, his long strides eating up the distance between him and the holotable.

Padme followed a step behind, her heart thudding deep in her chest. She didn't know what was coming, but the oppressive weight in the air promised her it wasn't good. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Sabe appeared at Padme's side, tucking a holo-pad under her arm with a practised efficiency that would have comforted Padme any other time. "I'm sure it's nothing," she said softly, her voice carrying a lightness Padme knew wasn't genuine. "Probably some high-strung senate problem they're going to spend the next few hours sweating over."

The aide tried to smile, but there was something tight and uncomfortable behind it, a tension in her shoulders that betrayed her calm words. Even Sabe, always steady and unflappable, could sense that something wasn't right. Padme's stomach twisted into knots, a heavy weight settling in her gut. Why was everyone looking at her? Why was the air in the room so charged, so suffocating?

She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, but her nerves wouldn't relent. She glanced toward the turbolift, silently willing Anakin to appear. Even if they were fighting, even if they could barely look at each other without biting words rising to the surface, she wanted him here. She needed him beside her for whatever this was.

On the raised platform ahead, Tarkin folded his hands neatly behind his back, the very image of Imperial professionalism. But Padme's sharp eyes didn't miss the slight pallor to his skin, the tightness in his jaw. The older man looked grim, his usual air of authority tempered by something Padme couldn't quite place.

A shiver ran down her spine as her gaze darted to Director Krennic, standing stiffly near the edge of the room. He avoided her eyes entirely, his gaze flitting around the space as if he could will himself to be anywhere else. When Padme attempted to catch his eye, he seemed suddenly and inexplicably fascinated by the pristine folds of his white cloak, brushing at it as though it carried the galaxy's most pressing concern.

The unease in her chest grew sharper, colder.

"What the hell is going on?" Padme muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the hum of machinery.

Tarkin's face was as stoic as ever, though there was the faintest flicker of discomfort in his eyes. "About five minutes after takeoff, the transport carrying Prince Anakin and the other members of our delegation suffered a catastrophic explosion," he repeated, his words measured, clinical. "We believe it to be the work of Rebel forces, though an investigation is already underway to confirm how such a circumstance could have occurred… but…" he paused, clearing his throat. "Your Majesties," his cold gaze flicked briefly to Padme before returning to Vader, "It is my grave duty to inform you that, the altitude the shuttle had reached… we cannot believe there were any survivors… or any remains to recover."

For a moment, the world around Padme was utterly still.

The hum of the machinery, the murmur of voices… everything faded into nothingness. Nothing but a sharp, piercing ringing in her ear. And then she was screaming. Screaming. Screaming.

And then Sabe was there.

Her dear friend was suddenly by her side, her slender arms wrapping tightly around Padme's trembling form. The aide held her tightly, even as Padme thrashed, desperate to be free of the suffocating embrace. She didn't want comfort. She wanted Anakin. She wanted him to walk through the door and prove them all wrong.

But he didn't.

Through her blurred vision, Padme caught a glimpse of Vader. He swayed on his feet, his imposing figure suddenly unsteady, his face pale and drawn. His golden eyes were wide, unfocused and his hand gripped his chest. And then she saw his boots – edging too close to the precipice of the raised platform. He teetered dangerously, his weight shifting as though the pull of gravity might topple him over the edge, down into the pit of control monitors and officers below.

For one horrifying moment, Padme thought he might let it happen.

After that, everything blurred.

The room around her dissolved into a haze of muffled voices and blurred figures. All Padme could hear was the sound of her own howls tearing through the air, shaking the room and reverberating in her chest like a cruel, endless echo. She didn't know what people were saying – couldn't process the words being spoken. All she knew was Sabe's arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her together as her datapad slipped from her grip and tumbled to the floor, shattering on impact.

And then there was another set of arms. Dorme.

They were trying to keep her upright, trying to steady her, but it was impossible. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Her chest felt like it was caving in, like the weight of the agony pressing down on her was crushing the very life out of her.

This wasn't her body anymore. It couldn't be. It was just this lifeless, heavy thing that pulsed with indescribable agony, a vessel of pain that she didn't know how to escape.

And she could not stop screaming.

Her knees gave out beneath her and the three of them toppled to the cold unforgiving floor. Sabe and Dorme tried to brace her, but Padme barely felt their hands, barely registering anything beyond the hollow, gaping wound that had just been carved into her soul.

She felt Teckla reach for her hand, a gentle, trembling attempt to offer comfort, but Padme shoved her away with a snarl – or maybe it was just another scream. She didn't know anymore. Her throat burned, raw and dry, as if she'd been screaming for hours, but the sound kept coming, ragged and broken.

Anakin was gone.

That's what they were saying. That's what the words meant, the ones she couldn't process but understood all the same.

Gone.

Dead.

Ripped away from her just like that, without warning, without mercy.

The world tilted and spun around her and Padme's body shook violently as her sobs overtook her. The grief was too big, too unbearable, consuming every inch of her being until there was nothing left.

She clawed at the floor, at the fabric of Dorme's dress, at anything within reach, desperate to find something – anything – to ground her. But there was nothing.

Someone was trying to haul her to her feet, but Padme clawed at their hands until they let go. She didn't want to move. She couldn't move. Not without him.

Not without Anakin.

Her wide, tear-blurred eyes darted to the turbolift doors, willing them to open, willing him to rush through them with that confident grin of his, to tell her this was all some terrible mistake and hold her in his strong arms again.

But the doors stayed sealed.

He wasn't coming.

No. No – no – no – no!

Her mind spiralled as the crushing reality threatened to bury her alive. She couldn't do this. She couldn't live with this all-consuming agony burning her from the inside out. It wasn't possible! It couldn't be possible! A distant, broken whimper reached her ears, Sabe's soft voice saying something like, "Oh, Padme…" But it only fuelled the chaos roaring through her veins.

Why was she trying to comfort her? Padme's thoughts raced, frantic and irrational. Anakin could still be out there, needing their help! Tarkin had only said they believed there were no survivors. Believed. That wasn't an absolute. It wasn't a guarantee! Her heart pounded furiously, thundering against her ribcage as the thought took hold and consumed her entirely. What if Anakin was still out there? What if he was hurt, alone, waiting for someone to come for him?

What if he was in pain while they were all just standing there – while she crumpled into a useless heap on the floor?

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her and she shoved off the arms that held her. Dorme stumbled back in surprise but Padme didn't care. She climbed shakily to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her but refusing to give out again.

"We have to do something," she choked out, her voice raw and shaking but filled with desperate urgency. Her vision swam, but she forced herself to focus, to move. "We can't just stand here! He could still be alive! He could need our help!"

"Padme – " Sabe reached for her, her expression a mix of heartbreak and fear, but Padme shook her head violently.

"No!" she cried, her voice breaking. "I won't believe it! I can't believe it! Anakin's not – " She couldn't bring herself to say the word. It stuck in her throat, an unbearable weight. "He's not! He's out there. He's alive. I know he is!"

The room was spinning, the weight of everyone's stares pressing down on her, but she didn't care. She didn't care what they thought about her, didn't care how irrational she sounded. All that mattered was finding him.

She stumbled toward Vader, grasping his arm, her nails digging into the fabric of his sleeve as though she could anchor herself to him, as though her sheer will could force him to act. "Padme," Vader whispered again, his voice barely more than a breath, his golden eyes shining with a mix of anguish and helplessness. "I… I can't…" He trailed off, his voice breaking, his words failing him.

She shook her head furiously, the tears streaming down her cheeks unchecked. "You can't what, Vader? You can't just stand there and do nothing! He's your brother! He's alive! I know he is! You can feel him, can't you?"

Her words were wild, frantic, desperate to find something – anything – that would light a fire under him... She needed him to act, needed him to be the brother she believed he could still be. But he only shook his head again, his lips pressed into a trembling line, his silence cutting deeper than any blade.

Tarkin's cold indifference was infuriating, his sharp, composed expression making Padme feel invisible, as though her grief and desperation were of no consequence. His demeanour was sterile, mechanical, utterly devoid of empathy. And then another voice cut through the stifling silence, hollow and detached, yet full of grim finality.

"The enemy knew exactly what they were doing." Padme's head snapped toward the source, her tear-filled gaze landing on the flickering blue transmission of Mas Amedda a step before the other members of the council. His face, as always, was a mask of calculated detachment, the cold, emotionless words leaving his lips like a death knell. "As we understand it, the shuttle you arrived on was originally meant for Prince Anakin," he continued, his tone disturbingly calm, as though he were discussing routine Senate proceedings rather than the devastating tragedy that had just unfolded. "We believe this attack was an attempt to assassinate you, your Majesty, and to destabilize the Empire as a whole."

Padme's chest heaved as the words settled over her like a heavy, suffocating weight.

Vader.

This was about Vader?

Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the other murmurs in the room. She stared at the transmission, her lips trembling as she processed what Amedda had said. The shuttle was meant for Vader.

She couldn't deal with this right now! Not when Anakin might be out there needing their help. "Who cares what they intended?" Padme's voice rose, her desperation crackling through the tense air as she clutched Vader's arm with trembling hands. She could feel him shaking beneath her grip, his composure cracking even if he was trying to hide it. "Vader, you have to do something! He could still be out there! Doesn't every second matter at times like these?" Her voice broke as she turned her tear-filled eyes toward Tarkin. "We need search parties down there now! Tarkin, send them immediately!"

Her words echoed through the room, but no one moved.

No one looked at her.

The silence was deafening, a weight pressing down on her chest until it felt like she couldn't breathe. Not a single officer, not even the lower-ranking officials stationed below the platform, dared meet her gaze. Sabe broke first. A sharp, heart-wrenching sob escaped her lips as she covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking as she wept openly. Teckla wrapped her arms around her, her face pale and stricken, but she didn't speak. Dorme stood stiffly, her head bowed, her hands trembling so violently that Padme thought she might drop the broken remains of Sabe's datapad she was holding.

Her chest heaved as she looked around the room, her frantic gaze darting from face to face. "Why isn't anyone doing anything?" She demanded, her voice rising with anger and desperation. "Why are you all just standing there? Don't you understand? He's alive! I know he's alive!"

But still, no one moved.

Her nails bit into Vader's arm as she turned her tear-streaked face up to him. "Vader, please!" She begged, her voice breaking. "We can't just stand here! We have to go down there! Now!"

Vader's golden eyes flickered with something raw, something unguarded, and for a moment, she thought he might act. But instead of springing into motion, he closed his eyes, his jaw clenching tightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and heavy, each word like a dagger to her heart. "Padme…" He opened his eyes, and she saw the tears glistening there, threatening to spill. His lips trembled as he shook his head slowly, the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him like a physical force. "I – I'm so sorry…"

She felt the world tilt, her legs weakening beneath her as her grip on his arm faltered. "No," she whispered, shaking her head furiously. "No, don't say that. Don't you dare say that!"

But he did.

"I… I don't know how to express my…" His voice broke and he looked away, his composure crumbling entirely.

Padme stumbled back, clutching her chest as though she might hold her breaking heart together. Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps and the room spun around her as she fought to make sense of this nightmare unfolding before her. "No!" She cried, her voice shaking with fury and despair. "This isn't over! He's not gone! He's out there and he needs us! He needs me!"

Her vision blurred with tears as she turned on her heel, her mind racing with the single, unshakable determination to do what no one else seemed willing to do. "If no one else will help him, then I will!" she hissed, her voice trembling as she began to march toward the exit. "I'll find him myself!"

No one moved.

No one said a word.

Padme's chest heaved as Vader's gloved hand caught her arm, pulling her back the few desperate steps she'd managed. His touch was firm, but there was no malice in it – only a solemnity that made her blood boil. He shook his head slowly, his golden eyes filled with something she didn't want to see. Pity. "Padme…" His voice was raw, his composure faltering as he spoke, "I – I know it's difficult to accept, but…" He trailed off, his head bowing slightly as though even he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. "There's no way – "

"Shut up!" She screamed, her voice cracking with fury. "Shut up! All of you, just stop it!" Her hands flew to her face, covering it as she shook her head violently back and forth. Her mind raced, spinning out of control. Anakin couldn't be gone. It wasn't possible. It wasn't true! He was their Supreme Commander, their Prince – how could they all just stand there and do nothing?

Her heart pounded erratically, her body trembling with the weight of it all. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and the cold, creeping sensation of nausea coiled in her stomach. The world around her felt distant and surreal, as if she were trapped in some terrible, inescapable nightmare.

Her knees buckled beneath her and she would have collapsed entirely if Vader hadn't caught her. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, steadying her as she sagged against him. But the contact, instead of grounding her, sent her spiralling further. "Do something!" Padme howled, her voice ripping through the silence like a violent storm. "Go out there and find him!" Her fists pounded against Vader's chest with a wild, desperate energy. "Please, Vader, please! You have to!"

But he didn't move.

None of them did.

Her pleading words fell into the silence like stones into a bottomless well and the anger inside her flared into a blazing, uncontrollable fury. Her chest burned with it, the heat rising to her throat, suffocating her. "Why aren't you doing anything?" She screamed, her fists still hammering against his chest. The force of her blows did little to faze him, but she didn't care. "You bastard! Nothing would stop him if it were you! He would never give up on you like this!"

The words erupted from her with all the rage and grief she couldn't contain, each one a sharp, cutting edge meant to wound him, to force him to feel the same anguish tearing her apart. Vader's head bowed slightly, but he didn't speak. He didn't argue.

Her body shook violently as the reality of it all began to close in on her. Distantly, she heard her voice screaming again, raw and hoarse, but the words barely registered.

Anakin had been right there with them.

He'd been right there!

How could he be gone?

How could someone have just taken him away from her? Her sobs wracked her body and her fists faltered, falling limply to her sides as her strength gave out. She noticed Vader nod and heard footsteps rush behind her before something sharp pricked the side of her neck, a sting that barely registered through the haze of her anguish.

Her vision blurred, her thoughts growing foggy as a heavy, numbing weakness spread through her body.

"No…" Padme whimpered weakly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "No, no, no…"

Her knees gave out again and she slumped fully into Vader's arms as the weight of her exhaustion suddenly overtook her. She was so tired. So very tired…

As the galaxy faded away, Padme felt her heart shatter.

A/N:Ouch :'(

Poor Padme! Why have I done this to them? Also poor Vader, my boy has been left hanging...

I won't lie to you, next chapter is pretty brutal so brace yourselves for next week. We're going on a JOURNEY together.