A/N:I have been slowly planning and writing this story for THREE YEARS, but I kept losing the will to work on it, but finally I've gotten somewhere with it! I'm so excited to share it with you every Monday. I've written up to chapter 5 already and I'm thinking there'll be maybe 7-8 in total.
Padmé paced the length of her living room, her bare feet sinking into the plush rug with each determined step. One hand rested on the small of her back, while the other absently rubbed the curve of her belly beneath her soft purple robe. She tried to focus, her mind cycling through phrases and points for the speech on educational rights she'd volunteered to give in the Senate tomorrow, but the words were refusing to come together.
Unfortunately for her focus, the baby refused to settle down, pushing firmly against her ribs suddenly and stealing her breath for a moment. The senator paused her mental planning for the moment and let her fingers glide over her swollen stomach with a small, shaky laugh. "You're restless too, aren't you little one?" she murmured, her voice tender. Her research into pregnancy and motherhood promised the child could sense her emotions. Maybe she was making them as stressed as she felt? That seemed terribly unfair and for a moment, her hormone-driven emotions flared, almost driving her to tears for the third time today. How she was going to stand up in the senate and speak about the struggles of underprivileged children without sobbing, Padmé truly had no idea…
The datapad on the nearby table held a rough outline of her talking points, but Padmé couldn't bring herself to look at it right now. Despite her best efforts, her thoughts refused to remain on track, drifting far from her speech and off onto entirely separate topics she would prefer to avoid at the moment. Alas, shutting out everything she spent her long, lonely nights agonising over seemed impossible right now as she glanced toward the looming window, watching the glittering, artificial lights of Coruscant's skyline shimmer against the timed rush of darkness.
How was she going to tell Anakin?
Padmé could see his face, that roguish grin that could light up even her darkest days, melting into wonder and pride when she told him he was going to be a father. Would he scoop her into his arms, spinning her around despite her protests that she was too heavy? Or would he drop to his knees, resting his hands over her bump, whispering sweet promises of love to their child?
Padmé's heart twisted with anticipation, desperate to share her joy with her husband, but any flicker of excitement she let herself feel was edged with something sharper and colder these past weeks.
The rumours…
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as a chill worked its way down her spine. The whispers had begun on the lower levels and climbed their way to even the highest ranks of the Senate, the story changing and morphing each time it was retold, but every variation held the same crucial detail that threatened to utterly break Padmé Amidala Naberrie Skywalker's heart into irreparable pieces. Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear, had been killed in battle several weeks ago and the Chancellor was working with the Jedi Council to conceal his death to maintain the Republic's morale in the face of this brutal war.
"No," she whispered aloud, shaking her head as if the movement along could dispel the vile rumours from her mind forever. Padmé felt her throat tighten and she whimpered at the sting of tears she refused to shed. She couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible! If Anakin was gone, she would know. She would feel it like the sun itself had been extinguished before her very eyes! The bond they shared, forged in love and tempered by years of secrecy and sacrifice, was too strong to be severed without her knowing.
Anakin was alive, she promised herself this yet again, even if her soul was quaking, she was resolute. He had to be alive and he would return to her, to both of them, because they still had so much life to share together, so many years ahead and memories they were going to create with their child.
Forcing her thoughts away from the darkness threatening to creep in, Padmé sank onto the couch, cradling her belly as she imagined the future instead, a much safer, happier topic. Anakin as a father… playful and doting, with that boundless energy that often made her dizzy. He'd tease their child endlessly, but never cruelly, and she could already see him sweeping their little one up into his arms, laughing and spinning them around the same way he used to playfully spar with Ahsoka.
Her smile softened as she thought of how he'd been with his former padawan, guiding her with firm patience but always showing her that he cared deeply about her. He'd be the same with their child, steady, protective and impossibly loving. Anakin Skywalker loved with his whole heart and very little logic, his emotions were a tempest unleashed, a wild, untameable force that shielded those he cherished, calm and safe amidst the chaos. Yet beyond that fragile circle of protection, the storm raged with devastating fury, obliterating anything bold – or foolish – enough to stand in its path.
This child was going to be loved more deeply than even Padmé could fathom. Her hand lingered on the curve of her belly as, despite the worry picking at the happiness she desperately wished to feel, the senator smiled. "Your father is going to adore you, little one. And I'll tell him about you soon. I promise."
Her gaze flickered back to the datapad waiting on the table. She truly was not as prepared as she'd like to be for tomorrow, but the speech could wait a little while longer. Everyone deserved a break now and again, right?
Padmé looked up as the soft swish of the door announced someone entering the room. She turned, her lips parting into a smile of relief when she saw Tiaba stepping inside, carrying a tray with a steaming beverage in her favourite mug and a small plate of biscuits. The newest addition to her staff, the older woman's presence always seemed to bring a calming steadiness to Padmé's increasingly chaotic life and thankfully, today seemed to be no exception.
"I'm glad to see you off your feet, my Lady!" Tiaba said warmly, setting the tray on the low table near the couch. Her voice carried a soothing timbre that always reminded Padmé of her mother. Wearing the same style of dark dress as her other handmaiden's, the other woman's greying hair was pulled back into a tight, beautifully structured style behind her head. "All that stress from your work isn't good for the baby – we need you in good condition!"
Padmé sighed, rubbing her belly as the little one gave another brutal kick – they were halfway to being a warrior already, Anakin would be proud! "Thank you for being here, Tiaba. I don't know how I'd have managed these last few months without you." Far truer than she could ever actually speak, Padmé had come to rely on the other woman's strength and generosity ever since she began her employment here.
Tiaba's green eyes softened, her expression kind but knowing. "You would've managed. You're stronger than you think."
"Not without losing my mind," Padmé countered, sinking deeper into the cushions. "You've been more than a handmaiden to me, but a friend, really. I can't tell anyone about the baby, not even my family and without you…" Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, blinking against the sudden sting of tears. Stars, she wasn't going to miss this aspect of being pregnant once the baby came!
Tiaba's face softened further as she stepped closer, gently fluffing the pillows behind Padmé and draping a light blanket over her legs. "Hush now," she said gently. "You're not alone and that's not going to change any time soon."
Padmé looked up at her, truly grateful beyond words. Tiaba had been more than just a comforting presence, she'd offered practical advice, sourcing vitamins and supplements that were vital for her and the baby without rousing any suspicion about her condition and always seemed to know exactly what Padmé needed, often before she even realized it herself. Truly, her presence had been invaluable! "Dormé and Cordé were right about you," Padmé laughed softly. "Who needs med-droids when Tiaba is around?"
The other woman chuckled, the sound light and reassuring. "They flatter me," she replied, brushing a strand of silver-threaded hair back from her face. "But I'll admit, I've picked up a thing or two over the years. My husband used to deliver babies back on Naboo and I always wished I'd had one of my own." Padmé couldn't help but smile as the tension in her shoulders eased. Tiaba's quiet strength and unwavering support had become a lifeline amid her uncertainty, and for the first time that day, she allowed herself to feel a flicker of peace. "Now, if it were up to me, I'd say we cancel this speech altogether – there must be someone who can step in for you? Hm?"
Oh, how wonderfully tempting it was to pass this off to Mon or Bail or any of the other colleagues she trusted enough to take her place. Senate sessions were always painfully long and frustrating beyond words, but lately, with her condition, they'd become nearly unbearable. The thought of standing up before everyone and speaking for several minutes when Padmé would much rather blend into the background to avoid any extra attention was draining. She was going to have to find something to wear that concealed her stomach too, a feat more and more difficult to accomplish these days.
But she had a duty, an obligation to see this through even if she'd rather spend the day in bed watching a good holo-drama. "I can't do that," Padmé sighed, "besides, working is a wonderful distraction from my thoughts sometimes. This child is going to change everything for Anakin and me… I'm likely to be asked to step down from office and he could be expelled from the Jedi Order altogether." She'd thought about this endlessly since discovering she was pregnant. Padmé had the time to process and mourn and even look forward to all the changes coming for her… but Anakin hadn't. "It doesn't seem fair that he's not going to have much time at all to wrap his mind around everything before the baby comes."
Padmé wished she knew where in the galaxy he was, but other than those terrible rumours, there was nothing about either Anakin or Obi-Wan on the holo-net news or weekly war reports. She'd considered trying to reach out via commlink, but not only was that her very last resort of telling him the news, but his private channels had been dead for weeks. He was in the wind. Utterly vanished.
She'd imagined every possible scenario of his reaction, from overjoyed to furious and resistant. Would he be happy about the baby and feel guilty that she'd been all on her own to carry the secret? Or was he going to feel trapped and isolated from the duties he had on the battlefield, pulled away from the hardships and missions he'd been neck-deep within for years? Padmé closed her eyes, inhaling a steadying breath. She knew Anakin. Knew the pure kindness simmering beneath all his bravado, the gentle spirit that spoke through his broad smiles and teasing sarcasm. This was the man who would drop everything to help anyone who was in need. No matter how daunting their future appeared, Anakin would face it with the same fierce devotion he gave everything and everyone he loved.
Padmé's fingers lingered on the gentle swell of her belly, her heart still aching with a conflict she couldn't quite name. She was sure Anakin would be thrilled, she believed that with every fibre of her being, but there was a deeper worry twisting inside her chest. Anakin was so young. Just twenty-three years old. Most men his age were still studying at academies or travelling the galaxy with their friends, seeking adventure in rowdy cantinas or under dancing lights, collecting stories and experiences to exchange over late-night drinks for years to come.
But he wasn't doing any of that.
He was a soldier, a Jedi General. He'd watched his comrades fall in battle and seen horrors she could scarcely imagine. And now he was going to be a father, an unspeakably precious yet monumental responsibility… one they'd never even discussed beyond hushed whispers of one day, maybe, in the distant future. Yet fate had intervened, her life-changing drastically in a matter of weeks after he left her for the last time.
Padmé thought back to the countless nights she'd lain awake, trying to decide what to do. Should she confide in her family and risk endangering them by association? Should she tell Obi-Wan and beg him to find a reason to send Anakin back? Should she tell Queen Apailana? Or the Senate, somehow? The truth was she just didn't know what to do. She'd had to make all these decisions alone, carrying the baby in secret as the war dragged on and Anakin remained absent. And now, when he returned it would be as though a lifetime's worth of choices that had already been made for him.
Was that fair? A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she felt her heavy shoulders sagging. Every time she glanced at a news report on the holo-net and saw fluff-stories of younger men racing starships, exploring new worlds, or simply relaxing in peace – she felt a twinge of guilt. Anakin had never been given that freedom. He'd been thrust into war since he was a boy, a padawan under Obi-Wan's guidance and he'd never known true, unfettered youth. Part of her was afraid she'd stolen what little chance at that he might have had left.
She gently let her thumb trace an absent-minded circle where the baby last kicked and a soft flutter in her abdomen answered, igniting warmth and protectiveness in her chest. Padmé wished… she wasn't even sure how to put it into words. She longed for a better galaxy, a safer one, where she and Anakin could have talked about starting a family on their own terms – where Anakin could have travelled, learned, celebrated, and had space to just be.
But that wasn't their reality.
Now he'd come home to this news that would shake the foundations of both their lives. Was he going to resent her, even just a tiny bit, for making these decisions without him? For not reaching him sooner? Or for thrusting him even further into a life of responsibility – a life he never actually got to choose for himself?
Padmé pressed her head back into the sofa cushions, eyes closing. She felt the baby shift again, as if in a gentle reminder of the hope at the heart of all her fears. She couldn't bear to think of this baby as anything but a blessing, and yet… Part of her, however small, hated that she was complicit in stealing away Anakin's youth and the freedoms that most other men got to enjoy and she couldn't stop it.
A few silent heartbeats passed and then the senator lifted her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She couldn't surrender to despair, not now, not when she needed to be strong for her child, for Anakin, for the galaxy that depended on her voice. It wasn't just about her and Anakin anymore, this child, helpless and full of infinite promise, was counting on them.
Tiaba gently perched herself on the edge of the sofa beside Padmé, tutting sympathetically. "Men are… simpler creatures than us. They hear 'baby' and they think so sleep, no sex and a lot more responsibility."
"That's not Anakin," Padmé shook her head, "He's not like that."
"I do hope so, my Lady," the other woman smiled softly. "Now, let me sort out this tea for you!" Padmé watched as Tiaba reached for the beverage, steam rising from the pale mug, carrying an aroma that was… different. Not unpleasant, exactly, but foreign. Padmé couldn't place it. "Here you are," Tiaba said, extending the cup toward her. "It's a special blend I made myself. I promise it'll help settle all those racing thoughts. You'll feel much better in no time."
Padmé offered a polite smile of thanks, but her gaze snagged on Tiaba's eyes – or rather, where Tiaba's eyes were looking. The older woman's attention wasn't on Padmé's face at all. Instead, she was staring intently at her rounded belly, as though it held a secret meant only for her. There was a strange gleam in the other woman's green gaze, something that sparked a flicker of unease in Padmé's chest.
She's probably just excited about the baby, she tried to reassure herself. Tiaba had been so genuinely caring all these months, she was just looking forward to the little one's arrival like Dormé and Cordé. Still, her heart gave a quick, uneasy flutter as she breathed in the steam, hoping the tea's warmth might soothe her nerves. She was overtired, that was all. A cup of tea and a little more work on her speech and she'd feel much better, Padmé was sure. The scent was spicy and slightly bitter, unfamiliar as she took a tentative sip.
The flavour was strong, earthy and faintly sweet, yet there was an odd undercurrent she couldn't quite name. Despite the curious taste, Padmé drank anyway. "Thank you," she murmured, taking another drink. "It's… interesting."
Tiaba smiled, her expression calm, still holding that oddly bright focus on Padmé's midsection. "Yes, it might be a bit potent at first, but you'll see. It does wonders."
Padmé started to nod in agreement, only to find the motion strangely difficult. A wave of sudden lethargy washed over her, as though the strength were being siphoned from her muscles. Her head grew heavy and her vision began to blur at the edges. Alarm bells roared in her mind, but they sounded distant, muffled by the sudden rush of darkness creeping in.
Something was wrong! Terribly wrong!
Her heart hammered, trying to fight off the encroaching fog but her arms felt like lead and her legs refused to respond. Her mug slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor in a burst of porcelain shards and splattering tea.
Padmé's eyes snapped wide in shock but she couldn't even cry out. She tried to lift her head, tried to demand an explanation, but all that came out was a faint, helpless whimper. Over the screaming in her ears, she heard Tiaba's voice, calm and level, as if nothing unusual was happening at all. "It's done," she said quietly, speaking into a comlink. The words cut through Padmé's fading consciousness like a blade.
She tried to scream, to fight, to protect her child, but her body simply refused to obey. Darkness clawed at the corners of her vision and she felt Tiaba's presence move closer, a gentle hand pressing against her back as though to keep her from slumping sideways off the couch. But there was no kindness in that touch now – only cold intent.
Fear twisted in Padmé's chest. Anakin… she thought desperately, hoping somehow he might sense her distress. But the thought fractured into nothingness as her eyelids grew impossibly heavy.
Then the world went black.