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url graphic → @leiaorga

Someone has to save our skins! 

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(x)

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chapter vii. master and apprentice

“Come on!” Padmé urges everyone forward. They step over a multitude of armored bodies, some of which are obliterated or missing limbs. The smoke rising from the floor is beginning to become suffocating; Padmé takes short, shallow breaths to avoid breathing it all in.

The five of them approach the elevator, and Han presses one of the buttons to take them to the floor that the Millennium Falcon is on.

“Are we going to find Ben, Han?” Luke asks.

“Ben?” inquires Padmé. They had come here with yet another person?

“Ben Kenobi,” her son replies. “He’s a Jedi Master.”

Padmé’s heart flutters with hope. Obi-Wan. He’s alive and well, but if he’s on the Death Star, then…. A cold wave washes over Padmé. She knows that if Obi-Wan is on the battle station, Vader must sense his presence. He is likely seeking him out right now, hunting him down through the Force…

She doesn’t have to ask herself whether Darth Vader would kill his old master. She knows the answer right away.

“What is he doing here?” she asks Luke, a worried look crossing her face. As she says this, the elevator door slides open, and the five of them step in. “And where is he?”

When the door closes, Luke answers, “It’s a long story—I’ll explain more back on the ship. Right now, though, he’s deactivating the tractor beam on our ship so we can get out of here.”

They assume I’m coming with them, Padmé thinks to herself. She hasn’t quite decided if she’s going to stay or not. If she left, she would be with her son and daughter, but that also meant leaving Anakin to rot in his own darkness. She still believes that perhaps she can lead him back to the light, and if she stayed, this would be possible. But it would also mean isolation, separation from her children… not to mention the rebels might be blowing up the Death Star soon, since the plans would likely be sent to Yavin IV.

For now, she will at least see to it that her children, along with the Death Star plans, escape from the Empire’s grasp. She is still in awe that she has been reunited with not just one, but both of her children—she hadn’t expected Luke to be here, but she is more than overjoyed that he is. She hasn’t seen him since he was a baby, after all.

Padmé steals a glance at her son, and her heart swells with pride for a moment. She wants to tear up and hug him, but she knows that he would only see it as strange; he doesn’t know the truth yet, and she doesn’t know when she will be able to tell him that she is his mother.

His skin is golden from Tatooine’s twin suns, and he has the same eyes as his father, crystal blue. (Eyes that Padmé longs to see again—eyes that are now forever hidden by a mask.) His hair is dirty blonde, much like Anakin’s had been when he lived on Tatooine as a child. Luke reminds Padmé of that little boy she once knew; he is kind, idealistic, but also very immature, just as Anakin had once been.

She only hopes that Luke did not inherit too much of his father.

“But, in short,” Luke continues, pulling Padmé out of her thoughts, “this R2 unit led me to Ben, and we found a pilot, Han, to take us to Alderaan.”

So Artoo is here, with the plans, she concludes with relief. Thank the Force he isn’t lost.

“How did you end up here, if you were going to Alderaan?” questions Padmé.

A shadow falls over Luke’s face. He shifts uncomfortably and casts a glance at Han, who just shrugs. There’s something Padmé is missing, but she doesn’t know what. Judging by the grave expression on her son’s face, it is definitely not good news.

“It’s a topic for another time, Padmé,” Leia says through gritted teeth. Anguish fills her voice, and Padmé’s brow furrows with concern. “We’ve got to focus on getting out of here.”

Padmé catches her daughter’s eye for a moment. Only minutes ago, her daughter’s face had been full of steely determination, but now it was just solemn. The ghost of grief dances in her eyes, and it fills Padmé with dread. Something is very, very wrong; a weight drops down onto her heart. But she decides it’s better not to talk about it right now, considering they’re about to run headfirst into a battle with Stormtroopers once that door opens.

Silence engulfs the elevator, and Padmé takes the opportunity to untie her cape from her waist and fasten it onto her shoulders. Now that her belt is more visible, she realizes that she doesn’t have a blaster on her; she had neglected to pick one up while in the Detention Center. After all, she had been more concerned with collecting the grenades. She has tucked the remaining grenade into a pocket of her belt; they would likely need it on their journey to the ship.

Luke raises his commlink up to his mouth and says, “Threepio, do you copy?”

Padmé looks at her son, who listens intently for the droid’s response. Of course, she should have assumed that C-3PO was here with R2-D2; the two had always been inseparable.

“Yes, Master Luke?” Threepio’s voice answers.

“Wait for us at the docking bay,” Luke commands him. “We’re heading down there.”

“We will be right there, Master Luke.”

The elevator finally stops, and the doors open, revealing a mostly vacant hallway, save for a strange droid that resembles a toaster. It emits a squealing noise, almost like it is sounding off its own alarm, and wheels away as quickly as it can once it spots the five of them exit the elevator.

Han aims his blaster at the toaster-like droid. “That thing’s probably going to alert the Imperials,” he says gruffly.

“No! Wait, they’ll hear!” Leia tries to stop him, but Han fires anyway. The sound of his blaster echoes through the hallway, and Padmé flinches at the sound. There’s no doubt in her mind that at least a few Stormtroopers or officers heard that.

She screws up her face at Han, but before she can get a word out, Leia beats her to it. “Listen, I don’t know who you are, or where you come from,” she says sharply, her eyes full of disdain, “but from now on, you do as I tell you. Okay?”

Han raises his eyebrows, seemingly unsure of whether Leia really just said that to him. Padmé’s heart swells with pride at the boldness of her daughter. She got that from me, she thinks, almost chuckling to herself.

“Listen, Your Worshipfulness, let’s get one thing straight! I take orders from one person—me!” He points his finger at himself.

“It’s a wonder you’re still alive,” Leia snaps in return. “Come on, Padmé, let’s go this way,” she gestures to the left, the opposite direction of where the droid was headed.

As Leia begins to walk, however, Chewbacca stands in her path. She huffs in frustration and exclaims, “Will somebody get this big walking carpet out of my way!” Leia storms away, Padmé treading behind her, but she isn’t too far away to hear what Han says to Luke.

“No reward is worth this.”

Padmé shakes her head. Han is quite the mercenary—and not in a good way. (Though, admittedly, part of her does find his rough, sarcastic attitude quite amusing.) She wonders how Obi-Wan and Luke ever became mixed up with such a man, but then again, they were on Tatooine. Han wouldn’t even be considered close to scum on that awful, crime-ridden planet.

When Han begins to venture to the left, Leia stops him. “We should try to avoid going that way,” Leia tells him. “There’s more Imperial traffic there. I recognize this floor; I know where we are.”

For a while after that, they continue swiftly down the hallway, staying very alert as they watch out for any Imperials.

After a few entanglements with Stormtroopers, the group had made it to the floor above the docking bay. Padmé had picked up a Stormtrooper’s blaster along the way, and now held it so that it rested across her chest.

They pass by a window that overlooks the docking bay, and Padmé turns her head to look at the ship that her son arrived in. It is an old, beat-up freighter, but still an elegant ship nonetheless.

“There she is,” Han says proudly, catching Padmé looking at the ship. “The Millennium Falcon.”

Leia steps over to the window to peer down at the ship, and her eyebrows raise in surprise. “You came in that thing?” She turns to look at Han. “You’re braver than I thought,” she admits.

A slight grin pulls on Han’s lips, and he replies, “Nice, come on,” and begins to quickly walk down the hallway to the lower floor. Padmé, Leia, Luke, and Chewbacca follow, all of them quite eager to reach the ship as soon as possible.

Padmé still isn’t sure what she’s going to tell them when they reach the ship—is she going to stay, or is she going to come with them? She doesn’t know what Leia would think if she remained on the Death Star… or Obi-Wan, for that matter. Would they see her as a traitor to the Rebellion? Would she even see either her son or her daughter again if she refused to come with them?

They turn the corner, running right into a group of Stormtroopers. “There they are, blast them!” one of the troopers exclaims, and begin firing. Padmé quickly reacts, taking down three Stormtroopers with only a few shots.

“Get back!” Han shouts, and charges the Stormtroopers, shooting his blaster while he runs, Chewbacca in tow. The Stormtroopers retreat, shocked at Han’s boldness—even Padmé is rather dumbfounded, absolutely in disbelief that Han would do something so foolishly brave.

“Where are you going? Come back!” Luke calls after him, but Han has already disappeared around a corner.

“He certainly has courage,” remarks Leia, almost in admiration. Padmé is starting to catch on that Han and Leia’s bickering and comments towards each other may not be just out of annoyance. She smiles awkwardly to herself for a moment, blushing in chagrin at the thought of her daughter being attracted to the smuggler. Not that she could really blame her—Han Solo was a good looking man, but admittedly closer to Padmé’s age than Leia’s.

“What good will it do if he gets himself killed?” replies Luke, shaking his head. “Come on,” he beckons Leia and Padmé to the opposite direction Han went, and the three of them run down the hallway together.

It isn’t long before they are found by Stormtroopers. “There’s the intruders!” a trooper exclaims. Blaster fire is exchanged between them, and Padmé, Luke, and Leia retreat around the corner, heading to an open doorway.

Luke stops the moment the three of them pass through, and Padmé soon sees why. They find themselves at what seems to be a dead end; there is only a part of a walkway that leads across a chasm.

“I think we took a wrong turn!” her son exclaims, his voice slightly echoing through the room.

Padmé turns and punches a button to close the blast doors, temporarily blocking the Stormtroopers out. “Here,” she says. “One of these buttons should allow us to get across.”

She presses a red button, but nothing happens. When she tries another, she hears Luke say, “It worked!” Padmé turns to see that the walkway is extending, joining the two sides of the chasm.

“Let’s go, before that door opens,” Leia says, and they quickly run across the bridge.

Vader walks silently, like an ominous shadow, down an empty corridor. He reaches out with all his senses; Obi-Wan is near, he can feel it. And when they do meet, he will strike him down, finally enacting revenge on the man who crippled him for life.

He is near the hangar where the Millennium Falcon is docked when he sees a flash of white hair around a corner. Rather than pursing Obi-Wan, Vader stops in his tracks, and sure enough, the old man reveals himself. The years have not been kind to his old master, but Vader recognizes him nevertheless. His hair has turned pale with age, his skin wrinkled and tanned by the harsh Tatooine sun. He wears brown and beige Jedi robes that similar to the ones he wore the last time they battled.

To Vader’s dismay, he spots a twinkle in Kenobi’s eyes. The old Jedi is not afraid. He is completely calm

An inferno of rage suddenly ignites within Vader. Nineteen years of built up hatred for Obi-Wan comes spilling out of whatever barrier was reigning it in, and Vader finds himself nearly shaking with fury. He draws his lightsaber, eager to cut down his old master. With his death would come a great triumph, and perhaps even some peace.

Anger and hatred burn through every fiber of his being as Vader steps forward threateningly, his bright Sith-red lightsaber humming as he moves. Obi-Wan ignites his own saber—it is still blue, indicating that it is the same lightsaber that he used to sever three of Vader’s limbs.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Obi-Wan,” growls Vader. “We meet again, at last.”

Obi-Wan moves into an offensive position, his movements as graceful and elegant as they were in his youth. But this would be an easy battle; Obi-Wan’s fighting style seems to have had little evolution, while Vader’s technique has drastically changed over the years. He knows the way Obi-Wan fights—even after all this time, he never could have forgotten after spending over a decade under his training. But Vader may as well be a stranger to Obi-Wan; he was still the aggressor when it came to combat, but Sith fighting styles were very distinct from those of the Jedi.

“The circle is now complete,” Vader continues, raising his lightsaber so that it is closer to Obi-Wan’s. “When I left you, I was but the learner. Now I am the master.”

He believes himself to be superior to Obi-Wan in every way. Not only is he stronger and younger, but he now wielded the Dark Side as a weapon, the most powerful side of the Force, on that Obi-Wan would never understand.

“Only a master of evil, Darth,” replies Obi-Wan, and their lightsabers collide. Green flashes between their blades, the product of red and blue meeting in battle.

As the two of them continue to swing at one another, blocking the other’s attacks each time, Vader becomes more and more aggressive, and Obi-Wan becomes more defensive in return.

Vader’s lightsaber meets Obi-Wan’s once more, and the two sabers growl against one another. He holds his old master there, pushing just enough to meet Obi-Wan’s strength.

“You failed, Kenobi,” Vader snarls through his mask, his rage absolutely boiling over now. He can’t hold himself back; he lacks the emotional strength, especially when it comes to his former master. Obi-Wan has to pay for everything he did to him, and Vader decides that he will start by gloating over the Jedi’s failed plan to keep Padmé from him.

“You never wanted me to know that Padmé was alive,” he continues. “Did you really think you could hide her from me forever?”

Their lightsabers part for a moment, but Obi-Wan slashes at him again. Vader blocks his attack effortlessly, their weapons locking mid-air.

Obi-Wan does not seemed shocked by Vader’s words. He must have felt Padmé’s presence on the Death Star and known that Darth Vader had discovered her.

“I did what was necessary,” Obi-Wan replies simply. “Padmé doesn’t deserve the pain you will cause her.”

The pain he will cause her? Another burst of rage erupts within Vader and burns through his half-mechanical body like wildfire. Obi-Wan knows nothing—he would never intentionally harm Padmé. If the old man truly believes that, it just proves to Vader even more what an imbecile he is.

“I didn’t lie to her like you did,” retorts Vader harshly. “You are the one who has caused her pain. It has always been you, Obi-Wan. You tried to drive us apart years ago, and you have never stopped.”

Obi-Wan remains calm, despite Vader’s inflammatory accusations. It makes him want to throw something seeing Obi-Wan so tranquil, so at peace. He seems unbothered by anything Vader has said, so firm in his beliefs that Vader’s words mean nothing to him.

In his anger, he lunges forward, driving Obi-Wan back into the wall. He swings, just barely missing Obi-Wan’s shoulder and instead cutting a deep score into the wall that sears with embers.

As their lightsabers collide again and again, Vader seriously contemplates using the Force to fling Obi-Wan’s body into the wall.

“Your powers are weak, old man,” Vader taunts as their lightsabers lock once more.

“You can’t win, Darth,” says Obi-Wan with a confidence that makes Vader’s blood boil. “If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”

That is quite the overstatement, in Vader’s opinion, especially considering the fact that he can imagine endless power. The power of the Jedi is extremely limited compared to that of the Sith; Vader knows Obi-Wan is only trying to goad him.

“You are still nothing but a liar,” retorts Vader. “Some things never change.”

Their sabers break apart and clash again, hissing against one another as glaring green light sparks from the collision.

Eventually, Luke, Leia, Padmé, Han, and Chewbacca find their way back together, running into each other at a hallway that leads to the docking bay. From the doorway, they can see the Millennium Falcon, which is guarded by a group of Stormtroopers.

“What kept you?” Han asks them.

“We uh, ran into some old friends,” replies Leia.

“Is the ship alright?” inquires Luke.

“Seems okay, if we can get to it,” Han answers. “Let’s just hope the old man got the tractor beam out of commission.”

“Are we meeting him here?” she asks Han.

He nods. “Yeah, he should be near by now, if everything went according to plan.”

She only hopes that Obi-Wan and Vader’s paths did not cross, but it seems unlikely. Perhaps Obi-Wan was able to escape from Vader—she wouldn’t want either of them to die in battle.

If Obi-Wan killed Vader… she stops herself there. That’s a thought that it too painful to dwell on right now.

Suddenly, the Stormtroopers leave, running somewhere to the right of the ship. Padmé furrows her brow, contemplating. Why would they just abandon the ship like that? Is something going on?

“Look,” Leia says, pointing at the retreating troopers.

“Now’s our chance, go!” Han exclaims, his voice hushed. The five of them bolt out of the hallway, heading towards the ship as fast as their feet will carry them.

But then Luke stops, and turns to see why exactly the Stormtroopers left. “Ben?” he says. Han and Chewbacca are still running to the entrance of the Millennium Falcon, but Leia and Padmé stop with Luke.

Her heart freezes in her chest when she sees it. The Stormtroopers stopped guarding the ship because there is a spectacle unfolding in the hallway by the docking bay. In the mouth of a doorway, a dark figure that is all too familiar and an old man dressed in Jedi robes battle, each of them lunging at one another with lightsabers in their hands. Vader’s is Sith-red, a saber color Padmé has never actually seen in person before; Obi-Wan’s is blue, just as it had been in the era of the Old Republic.

No, she thinks. Padmé begins to tremble, but not out of fear for herself. She is afraid for both Obi-Wan and Vader, knowing that lightsaber duels seldom end in draws. One of them is going to die—unless she does something about it.

Luke moves forward, getting closer to the doorway where Obi-Wan and Darth Vader are dueling. Padmé follows, but Leia keeps her distance, her body growing rigid at the sight of the Dark Lord.

Obi-Wan glances at Luke, but then turns his head when he spots Padmé. Vader hesitates, seemingly unsure of why Obi-Wan’s focus would suddenly shift. Obi-Wan turns back to Vader, and Padmé can see his mouth moving, saying something to his opponent, though she cannot hear it.

Whatever it was, it seems to have struck a nerve in Vader, because he too looks at the docking bay. Although Padmé cannot see his eyes through his mask, she knows that he sees her; she can feel his gaze burning into her skin.

She wonders what he feels right now—anger? Despair? Betrayal?

Darth Vader barks an order to the Stormtroopers, and swings his saber at Obi-Wan, his movements swift and full of a furious aggression. Their blades clash again and again, Obi-Wan only blocking Vader’s attacks now. He has moved into a defensive position, carefully guarding himself from Vader.

The Stormtroopers begin to fire, but not at Padmé. They only shoot at Luke, Han, Leia, and Chewbacca, who retaliate with blaster fire of their own.

Padmé shoots with the rest of them, and together they take down several Stormtroopers, but a few still remain. She knows that she’ll have to do something to help Obi-Wan escape; she has a gut feeling that Vader isn’t the one in danger here.

She looks down at the grenade tucked into a pocket in her belt. Padmé glances at the doorway, quickly devising a plan to create a distraction.

Her hand closes around the grenade in her belt pocket, and she pulls it out, pressing the button to detonate it.

“Obi-Wan!” she yells, and thrusts the grenade at the group of Stormtroopers. The grenade lands just close enough to the doorway not only hit the Stormtroopers, but to also blow Vader and Obi-Wan back. Perhaps with Padmé’s warning, Obi-Wan and Vader would separate, allowing Obi-Wan to make an easier escape.

It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was all she could do at the moment.

Before the grenade goes off, to her relief, Obi-Wan and Vader break apart. The two men back away from each other, trying to avoid the blast from the grenade. Obi-Wan, just as she hoped, is closer to the exit now than Vader, who is now out of sight, concealed by the wall.

The explosion shakes the floor, but Padmé holds her ground. With a blast of flame and smoke, the Stormtroopers are mostly obliterated. Pieces of their armored bodies are flung in every direction; Padmé grimaces at the sight. She can’t see if Vader was blown back, but through the veil of smoke, she can see that Obi-Wan falls to his knees. He quickly recovers, however, and races towards the Millennium Falcon faster than any old man she had ever seen.

“Holy—nice one, Padmé!” exclaims Leia, her eyes widening at the chaos Padmé was wrecked upon the docking bay.

“You’ve got some serious guts, sister,” Han remarks. He doesn’t stick around, though. Eager to board his ship, he and Chewbacca dart up the ramp to get it ready for takeoff.

“Ben, thank Force!” cries Luke, grinning with joy as Obi-Wan reaches him. “Let’s go!” Luke grabs him by his robe and leads him onboard, but Padmé doesn’t follow. She remains glued to the floor, her body stiff.

She is not in reality; she is stuck in her own mind, going back and forth between two choices. She can stay and try to lead her husband back to the light, or she can go with her children and continue to lead the rebels to victory. The Alliance would need her, now more than ever. Her children would need her, too… but so does Vader. If she left him, would he be lost in darkness forever?

Before she can make a decision on whether to stay or leave, Leia tugs at her arm. “Padmé, what are you waiting for? Come on!” She pulls her onto the ramp of the Millennium Falcon. Padmé glances back several times at the dark figure of Vader that can be seen through the smoke. His lightsaber is sheathed, and he seems to be moving towards the ship.

“Padmé!” Leia is shouting now. She hears her, but she’s too distracted, too torn between saving her husband and being with her children to make a clear decision. Han pokes his head out from the Falcon and raises an eyebrow when he sees that Padmé is being dragged by her daughter onto the ship.

“Oh, what the hell!” he says gruffly. “Come on, sister, we gotta go!” Han helps Leia by grabbing Padmé’s arm and yanking her into the ship.

[rubybluewrites-blog]

chapter vi. the rescue

“She lied! She lied to us!” Tarkin exclaims. He seems genuinely surprised, but Vader is not shocked at the news.

Grand Moff Tarkin and Darth Vader are standing in the conference room on the Death Star. Tarkin has just been informed by an officer that only an abandoned base was found on Dantooine, and that the rebels are no longer present there.

“I told you she would never consciously betray the Rebellion.” It’s Vader own way of saying, ‘I told you so.’ With the way the princess resisted his interrogation methods, it should have been quite obvious that she would not break. Still, it is rather impressive that she allowed her planet to be destroyed in favor of the Rebellion’s safety.

Tarkin scowls at him. “And why can’t we terminate her? She should die for lying to us, Vader.”

“You achieved your objective, Tarkin,” Vader tells him coolly. “The Death Star’s power has now been demonstrated. And we will never know the location of the rebel base if we kill her now.”

The Grand Moff sighs in frustration and defeat. Vader can see the vexation on his face; Tarkin would love nothing more than for Princess Leia to die, but Vader can’t allow that.

“I suppose you are right,” he gives in. “But what is the true reason you want the princess alive, Vader? You seem very adamant about ensuring her life.”

“Do you question my intentions?” Vader inquires harshly. He doesn’t like to be regulated; only the Emperor himself has the power to truly give him orders.

“Your behavior lately is just strange,” Tarkin shrugs. “Does it have to do with Amidala? Is that why you seem to be protecting the princess?” The Grand Moff is careful with his words, but his tone is definitely more accusatory than curious. Vader can sense his suspicion as well, and he doesn’t take kindly to it. He supposes that his behavior is odd, and it isn't much of a surprise that Tarkin has caught on. It is quite strange, after all, to keep a 'prisoner' in a room rather than a cell, and to not use a torture device on them. But it angers him nevertheless; Tarkin should know better than to question his authority.

When Vader does not answer quickly enough, Tarkin continues. “Did Amidala ask you to keep the princess alive? They were captured together; their relationship may be stronger than she has let on.”

“Amidala is none of your concern,” Vader replies sharply. He hopes that Tarkin will stop there, but to his dismay, he doesn’t.

“Just remember where your loyalties should lie,” says Tarkin, his pale eyes narrowed.

Vader would have snapped his neck if he wasn’t such a highly ranked Imperial. The Emperor would surely punish him if he killed Tarkin; that is the only reason Vader is able to behave himself. In all nineteen of his years as Darth Vader, no one had ever questioned his loyalty to the Empire. Not even the Emperor himself.

“My loyalty,”  Vader snarls. “Is to the Empire. It is not your place to question that.”

Now the Grand Moff is glaring at him with icy eyes. “Just don’t let your personal feelings get in the way of your responsibility to the Empire.” Tarkin chastises him like a child, and Vader will not tolerate such things. He hasn’t been spoken to like this since he was a Jedi.

“I’m not,” insists Vader. “Why don’t you mind yourself, Tarkin, rather than scrutinize my every move? I assure you, none of my actions will negatively impact the Empire.”

Before Tarkin can argue any further, the intercom on the conference table buzzes. “Yes?” Tarkin answers.

“We’ve captured a freighter entering the remains of the Alderaan system. It’s markings match those that blasted its way out of Mos Eisley,” a man on the other end of the intercom informs Tarkin.

Mos Eisley—Tatooine. That was where the princess had sent the Death Star plans, and it could be no coincidence that the same ship was now trying to visit Alderaan, Princess Leia’s home planet.

“They must be trying to return the stolen plans to the princess. See, Tarkin? She can still be useful to us.” Vader sounds rather smug as he speaks, and satisfaction swells within him as he sees the irritation flicker over Tarkin’s features.

“Just go oversee the investigation of the ship, Vader,” sighs Tarkin.

Vader doesn’t say anything more. He just turns and leaves to head down to the docking bay where the freighter ship is held.

As much as Padme wants to redeem her husband, as much as she wants to believe in him, she has her doubts. She knows that she cannot put her faith in Vader to truly protect Leia. He would keep her alive, perhaps, but what kind of life would Leia be living if she were kept a prisoner? Vader would never release her; she’d just be wasting away in a cell.

If Leia conveniently escaped, Darth Vader would immediately trace it back to Padme. But what could he really do to her? Vader won’t hurt her—she’s sure of that. Perhaps she would be confined to her room and be barred from exploring the ship with Vader, but Padme could live with that.

She’s been contemplating deeply in her room ever since Vader left her alone. Padme still isn’t sure how exactly she would free Leia, but she supposes she could use her credentials as Vader’s companion to get her through Death Star security. The trouble with that is Padme isn’t sure of how far word has spread, and how much most Imperial men would be aware of.

And there would certainly be grave consequences if she failed to free Leia. Vader may call off their deal altogether and try to kill their daughter, in which case, Padme would be forced to tell him that he is her father. She desperately hopes that it will not come to that.

Padme decides to take the risk. She believes that she can succeed; she has rarely ever failed a mission in her time as both a Senator of the Republic and a general of the Rebel Alliance.

There would be guards stationed outside of her room, no doubt. She had seen them when Vader escorted her out of her room and back. Perhaps, if Padme told them that she is allowed to leave and that they must accompany her, they would believe her. And with a pair of Imperial guards at her side, she may not be questioned upon entering the Detention Center. She just had to sell her lie, and using their fear of Darth Vader against them should do the trick.

Padme is still dressed in her deep navy senatorial gown as she was earlier in the day. She is well put together, with her elegant dress and her hair, which is held neatly in place with her gold headband, tumbling down her back. Her appearance perpetuates an air of sophistication and authority—exactly what she is going for.

Her heart is pounding in her chest when she presses the button to open the doors. She exits her room, a nonchalant expression on her face. The two guards turn to look at her, confusion painted across their faces.

“My… my lady?” one of them, the guard on the right, questions tentatively.

“I have permission from Lord Vader to visit Princess Leia in the Detention Center,” Padme tells them as a matter of factly. She maintains a very serious, tranquil expression, careful not to betray her nervousness.

“What? He never informed us of this,” the other guard says. His tone is skeptical, but also respectful. She highly doubts the guards would ever intend to show her anything but respect; they must certainly be aware of the consequences if they didn’t.

“Lord Vader informed me that all I would have to do is ask the two of you to escort me to the Detention Center,” Padme lies.

“Where… where is Lord Vader?” the guard to Padme’s left inquires. They both seem rather uneasy and unsure; all they would need was a little more of a push, and they would surely oblige to Padme’s request.

“He is in a conference with Grand Moff Tarkin,” replies Padme.

She bats her eyes innocently, and then narrows them. “Surely, you would not want to upset Lord Vader,” Padme says. “I am sure he would not be pleased if you denied me a visit to the princess. She is a very dear friend of mine, and Lord Vader promised me a visit to her today.”

The guards look at each other skeptically. One of them says to the other, “Vader would be upset, you know. She’s important to him.”

Padme’s heart convulses—she is important to him, they had said. If even an Imperial guard could see that… no, she shouldn’t get her hopes up like that. Although she wants to believe otherwise, Padme is still unsure of Vader’s emotional state, especially when it comes to her. She may be important to him, but in what way? The fear that he might not truly love her is consuming, but Padme tries to contain herself in front of the guards.

“You’re right,” the guard replies to his partner. They both then turn to Padme. “Alright, my lady, we will escort you to the Detention Center.”

She smiles cordially. “Thank you.”

The elevator opens to the Detention Center. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo are dressed in Stormtrooper uniforms, with Chewbacca in tow. They have placed handcuffs around the Wookie’s wrists to give the impression that he is a prisoner, allowing them easy access to the Detention Center.

When the Millennium Falcon was pulled in by the Death Star’s tractor beam, Luke had no clue they would be commencing a rescue mission. He knows he’s in way over his head, not that he would ever admit that out loud. But after watching the princess’s message to Ben, he couldn’t just leave her with the Empire. Luke knows enough about the Empire to be fully aware that they wouldn’t keep the princess alive for long. The Empire does not like to keep their prisoners.

By not saving the princess, he’d be possibly damning the galaxy to an eternal Imperial reign.

Luke, Han, and Chewie step out of the elevator together. They both have blasters on their belts, prepared to attack at any moment. Luke knew they were heading into a fight when they made this rescue plan, and he is willing to follow through with it—even if it means that he has to kill the Imperials in the Detention Center.

The man at the circular control panel of the Detention Center stops what he was doing and looks at them, confusion written all over his face. He takes a step forward and clasps his hands behind his back.

“Where are you taking this… thing?” he asks suspiciously, his eyes narrowed.

“Prisoner transfer from cell block 1138,” Luke answers quickly, making up a random cell number in his head.

But the officer before them doesn’t seem to buy it. “I wasn’t notified…” he trails off when another officer approaches him.

“Sir, I thought we were expecting Amidala? Not… a Wookie prisoner.” He tries to keep his voice hushed, but he is still within earshot of Luke.

So, someone else was scheduled… Luke knows that is not good news. He turns to Han and nods—they would need to act soon if they were going to pull this plan off.

The officer just shrugs in response to his comrade. “I’ll have to clear it,” he says simply. He turns to his console and punches a few buttons, and the other office who questioned him begins to walk back to his post.

While both officers are occupied, Han unfastens Chewbacca’s bindings, and the Wookie lets out a great roar.

“Look out, it’s loose!” yells an Imperial.

Luke quickly hands Chewbacca an extra blaster. The Wookie runs forward, charging the officer at the console, and Han and Luke begin to fire their blasters at the guards in the room. A few Imperials go down, and the two young men dodge several blaster shots. They knock into one another, and Han elbows Luke in the ribcage. Luckily, though, he was protected by armor.

“Kid! Watch where you’re going!” Han shouts, and continues to fire at the remaining guards.

While Han handles the rest of the Imperials, Luke locates the cameras in the room and shoots them down. Most likely, though, the Death Star’s surveillance team has already seen them in the Detention Center. They don’t have much time, Luke realizes.

Another Imperial officer begins to charge at them from the hallway that leads to the cells, but Luke exclaims, “Look out!” and Han fires at him before he can do any damage. The man falls to the floor and tumbles down the stairs.

Once the chaos has been resolved and only Luke, Han, and Chewbacca are left standing, Han and Luke rush to the console. Han pushes the body of an Imperial officer off of the console, revealing a blinking communicator.

“We’ve got to find out which cell this princess of yours is in,” Han says, punching in commands into the computer at the console. “Here it is… cell 2187, you go get her. I’ll hold them here.”

Luke nods and runs off into the corridor. He quickly scans the numbers on the cells as he rushes by. 2160, 2166, 2175, 2183…

He stops dead in his tracks when he finally spots cell 2187. Just as he is about to press the button to open the cell, Han yells down the hallway, “Luke! We’re gonna have company!”

Luke’s heart jolts in his chest. They must be sending a squad up to investigate, he thinks. Shit, shit, shit, this is not good. This was a terrible plan.

He punches the button of the princess’s cell and the doors slide open, revealing a small woman in a white dress, laying on a metal bench. She looks just as she did in the hologram she sent, beautiful, young, and of course, with the double buns on either side of her hair.

Princess Leia groggily opens her eyes and holds herself up by one elbow, raising an eyebrow at Luke. He stares at her for a moment, dumbfounded by her beauty.

“Aren’t you a little short for a Stormtrooper?” she remarks.

“Huh?” Luke exclaims. But then he realizes—of course, he’s still wearing his disguise. “Oh, the uniform,” he says, removing his helmet to reveal his face and blonde hair. “I’m Luke Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you,” Luke tells the princess, dropping his helmet on the ground.

“You’re who?” inquires Princess Leia, who now stands up from her seat on the bench.

“I’m here to rescue you,” Luke says with more urgency in his voice. They would have to hurry, before it was too late, and he needs to get the princess to come with him now. There isn’t much time for questions. “I’ve got your R2 unit, I’m here with Ben Kenobi,” he explains further, hoping that will suffice for evidence to the princess that he is an ally, not an enemy.

“Ben Kenobi!” she repeats, her eyes lighting up with hope. “Where is he?”

“Come on!” Luke nods his head to the door, and the two of them run outside. Just as they are heading down the hallway, Princess Leia stops.

There is a pained expression on her face, and she turns and looks at Luke with worry. He stops beside her, wondering why she has stopped.

“Wait,” she gasps. “Padmé… we have to get Padmé.”

“Who?”

“Padmé! She was captured with me,” Leia explains. “I can’t leave her behind.”

“Okay, okay,” agrees Luke, not wanting to put them at risk and wait any longer. “We’ll—we’ll figure out a plan to save her, just… let’s focus on getting out of her for now.”

Leia nods, but Luke sees a twinkle of reluctance in her eyes.

The two of them emerge from the hallway to meet Han and Chewbacca back at the console.

“Princess,” Han greets Leia with a quick nod. “Let’s get the hell out of here before the squad of troopers they’re sending arrives.”

“We need to go somewhere we can look up the location of other prisoners,” says Leia. “We’ve got to find Padmé, but Vader took her somewhere else. I know she’s here, but I just don’t know exactly where. There’s so many different Detention Centers…”

“How do you know she’s even on the Death Star?” Luke asks her. If they were separated, this Padmé that Leia is searching for could have easily been sent to an Imperial prison on a planet. For Leia’s sake, though, and for theirs, he hoped that Padmé is here, and that they would be able to find her.

Leia shakes her head and sighs. “I can’t explain it, but I just know,” she tells him.

“Is she part of the Rebellion or something?” Han asks, crossing his arms. Luke can already tell by the sour look on his face that he isn’t pleased about the princess suggesting they rescue yet another prisoner.

“Yes, she’s a General, and she’s my friend,” says Leia, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere without her.”

“We could just leave you and her behind,” Han suggests, but Luke knows he isn’t serious. As much as Han likes to appear like he has a heart of stone, Luke doesn’t truly think he would let Leia die here, especially after going through so much trouble to rescue her.

“I’m going to save Padmé, or I’ll die trying,” declares Leia defiantly. She seems very set on this new course of action, and Luke doesn’t dare argue. Besides, if he were Leia, he would want to save his friend, too.

“Yeah well you might just kill us all in the process!” snaps Han. “I don’t want—”

He is interrupted by the sound of the elevator opening. The four of them whirl around and Han, Luke, and Chewie raise their weapons, expecting to be met with a group of Stormtroopers. However, instead, they come face to face with a woman and a pair of guards.

The woman is dressed far better than anyone Luke has seen on the Death Star. If he didn’t have better senses, if they weren’t in a life or death situation right now, he would have stood there in awe; she was extraordinarily beautiful, even more so than Princess Leia. She must be years older than the princess, however, perhaps closer to Han’s age, late twenties or early thirties.

She wears a regal navy-blue gown that pools around her on the floor. As she takes a tentative step forward, her dress ripples smoothly, like dark water. Her dark hair is long and falls past her shoulders in loose, elegant curls. And she has eyes like the princess’s, dark, kind, but also full of steel and strength.

Her facial features are very feminine, almost delicate in some ways, and elegant, with soft, straight brows, a thin nose, and an angular jawline with defined cheekbones.

Luke realizes he is staring, because the woman is looking right back at him. She seems almost as stunned as he is, and he quickly looks away to hide his embarrassment. He knows it can be perceived as rude to stare at someone, but he was just surprised to see someone dressed like a queen in a Death Star.

The guards beside her scan the room, eyeing the several dead Imperials on the floor. They raise their blasters, one at Han and the other at Luke.

Before either of them can shoot, the woman steps in front of them.

“My lady, please move out of the way,” the guard tells her.

“'My lady?’” Han repeats. He turns to Leia, his face screwed up in suspicion. “I thought you said she was a prisoner!”

“Don’t shoot, them, please,” the woman tells the guards. “Let them… explain. There might be more to the story here.”

“But, my lady, if Vader finds out we didn’t shoot intruders who were obviously freeing the princess—” one of the guard starts, but Padmé cuts him off.

“I promise you…” she casts a brief glance at Leia, who nods to her. They seem to be communicating silently, because Leia then lightly elbows Han to get his attention. Leia gestures with a short nod of her head to the pair of guards, and Han seems to get the message. So does Luke.

Oh, Luke thinks. She’s buying us time to shoot them. Does that mean that this woman was on their side, even if Imperials referred to her as ‘my lady?’ He isn’t completely sure of what to think of her, but she seems to be trying to save them, not get them killed. And if Luke denies her help, he is sure he’d end up dead for it.

“I won’t allow Vader to harm either of you. If I tell him you were just doing your job and protecting me, nothing bad will happen to you,” the woman tells the two guards. Luke furrows his brow—they’re her security detail. They are her guards, assigned to her by Darth Vader himself. What would a prisoner be doing with Imperial guards of her own?

He doesn’t have time to contemplate that too deeply right now. So, instead, he and Han do what they’re supposed to, and fire at the two guards simultaneously. They both drop to the floor, blaster holes in their head.

The woman turns to them with a solemn sigh. “Unfortunately, their deaths were necessary,” she says. “They never would have let me go.”

“Padmé, Mother of Moons!” Leia exclaims. The princess runs forward and throws her arms around the woman. She returns the princess’s embrace, wrapping her arms protectively around Leia, as if she is a small child.

“I thought… I was so afraid I would never see you again,” says Leia once she pulls away from Padmé. It is a heart-warming scene, and Luke smiles to himself, glad that the princess was able to be reunited with her friend.

“I’m alright. I’m glad you’re okay, as well, I was just coming down here to break you out…”

So that’s why they suddenly ran into Leia’s friend. But still, the circumstances were odd. Leia had told them she was a General of the Rebellion, but she had Imperial guards. But he supposes they would have time for those questions later—still, he can’t help his mind from wandering.

“Alright, alright, that’s a nice reunion and all, but we’ve gotta get going, sisters,” Han interrupts them. He then points to Leia accusingly. “You better explain what the hell is going on, though, sweetheart—but we don’t have time for that right now.”

“Padmé, right?” Luke says. Padmé nods and smiles weakly, almost sheepishly, at him. “I’m Luke Skywalker, and the rude one there is Han Solo. The Wookie’s name is Chewie. We—"

“The squad of troopers they’re sending will be here any minute now,” interjects Han. He looks at Padmé with narrowed eyes. “Since you’re so close with the Imps, do you know a way out of here?”

“There’s only one way—through the elevator,” says Padmé, pursing her lips with vexation. Luke is sure she doesn’t appreciate Han’s comment, but she doesn’t say anything for now. Instead, she crouches to the floor and grabs a pair of metal orbs that were attached to each of the guards’ belts.

“These should help,” she tells them, rising back up from the floor. Padmé shows them what she has, and Luke widens his eyes in shock. They were grenades—could they really trust a woman they don’t know with such dangerous weapons? And why were her guards so heavily armed?

“They had grenades?” Leia says. She seems to be thinking the same thing as Luke, because even she looks skeptical now. “Those were assassin class guards?”

Luke isn’t entirely sure what that means, as he doesn’t know the Imperial military like Leia does, but he can assume that the guards were specially trained.

“So, you’re gonna throw grenades while wearing that fancy dress and save our skins, huh?” snarks Han, putting his hands on his hips skeptically. “You’re not exactly dressed for action, sister.”

Padmé furrows her brow at Han. “I’m quite functional no matter my attire,” she retorts. “Besides, I’m wearing something else underneath this. I thought I might encounter some action while trying to save Leia, but I couldn’t leave my room in combat clothing, or my guards would have been suspicious.”

Her room, her guards—Luke is fairly certain as this point that Padmé was not truly a prisoner aboard the Death Star. If she hadn’t been given a cell like Leia, then she was more of a guest than anything. She doesn’t even try to hide it; she must know that this was very obvious the moment her guards referred to her as ‘my lady.’

“Now, if we’re done scrutinizing my fashion choices, let’s go,” Padmé orders. Han’s face turns bitter again and he mutters something to Chewbacca, who gargles incomprehensibly. Luke chuckles under his breath; Padmé is admirably bold, and he appreciates her sass towards Han. He deserves it, in Luke’s opinion.

Suddenly, smoke erupts into the air as a gaping hole is blasted through the wall of the Detention Center. Several Stormtroopers emerge from the opening and begin firing at the five of them. They retreat into the hallway for cover, and Han shouts frantically, “Get behind me, get behind me!”

Leia and Padmé are both unarmed, save for the grenades that Padmé has, so Han, Luke, and Chewbacca are the ones who fire in return at the Stormtroopers. They manage to take several of them down, but it is not enough. Luke’s heart is hammering away in his chest, and his breathing has become quick and uneven. He knows there’s a possibility they might die here, and that thought terrifies him. But he doesn’t allow that fear to consume him, and instead continues to bravely defend himself and his comrades.

He hears Padmé say to Leia behind him, “Hold these.” A few moments pass by—Luke, Han, and Chewie are still firing at the Stormtroopers—and then Padmé says, “Everyone, stand back.” Blaster fire flashes towards them, but none of it reaches them; they stay pressed against the walls to avoid it.

Luke looks to Padmé, who now wears a white bodysuit with beige boots and a belt to match. There’s fabric tied around her waist, too, of the same beige color of her boots and belt—it must be a cape or a hood of some sort. Her blue gown is on the floor, and Luke realizes now what she meant when she said she was wearing something more suitable for combat underneath her dress. She must have been wearing the boots the entire time, though.

She holds the pair of grenades in her hand. Padmé glances at both Luke and Leia, and then presses the button to detonate the grenade. It begins to beep, and Padmé quickly throws it into the horde of Stormtroopers.

[rubybluewrites-blog]

star wars characters meme [7/?] male characters → HAN SOLO

‘’never tell me the odds’’

[rubybluewrites-blog]

moodboard: the original trio

[rubybluewrites-blog]

moodboards ✧ luke | skywalker

 ↳  “but I was going into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters!

[rubybluewrites-blog]

anakin skywalker; star wars

[rubybluewrites-blog]

Moodboard: Women Of Star Wars

“She had a wild, wandering soul 

but when she loved, she loved with chaos

and that made all the difference.”

Prev. Padmé Amidala

[rubybluewrites-blog]

Moodboard: Women of Star Wars. “She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible. She walked with the Universe on her shoulders and made it look like a pair of wings.” 

[rubybluewrites-blog]

chapter v. alderaan’s fate

During their interrogation session, Vader ripped apart Leia’s mind—or tried to. He’s been brooding ever since he visited the princess in her cell; nothing was achieved by torturing her. But he does not think it’s because he did not physically harm her—physical pain is meaningless compared to the psychological torture he inflicts on his prisoners. Princess Leia is the single most resistant person he has ever encountered. It was frustratingly difficult to morph her senses and thoughts the way he wanted, and she displayed a dangerously strong opposition to the mind probe. Not only could she resist advanced technology, but also his Force powers.

If they were in another time period, he is sure Leia would have been scouted out by the Jedi Order.

He was unsuccessful in extracting the location of the rebel base from her, as it was kept locked away in a deep part of her mind that she would not allow him to access. Every time he tried, it was like pounding on a steel door with a bare fist. But he did learn quite a bit about the princess.

Her mother, Breha Organa, was killed by Imperials. She had been holding onto memories of her mother to comfort herself during the interrogation, and Vader was able to look into the surface of her mind. So he took that information and Leia’s warm, loving memories of her mother and turned them into a nightmare.

Using the mind probe and his Force influence, he made Leia hallucinate several different scenarios of Breha Organa dying. Over and over again, the princess watched her mother be killed by Imperial assassins. Sometimes Vader had them stab her to death, shoot her, burn her alive, suffocate her, drown her, decapitate her. It was heinously violent, vicious, but Vader relished every moment of it. He couldn’t hurt the princess, but he was still giving her everything she deserved for defying the Empire.

It does unsettle him more than he would like to admit that part of him feels ashamed of himself. After he walked away from Leia’s cell, he imagined Padmé’s face in his mind, shaking her head and frowning at him in disgust. She hates and fears the darkness in him, and he knows it.

Padmé was another thought that Vader was able to see in the princess’s mind. As he forced her to hallucinate that she was drowning, the princess focused on her happy memories with Padmé. He dwelled on them for several moments, just as she did. And unlike Breha, he did not turn the memories against the princess; it would be more of a punishment to him than to Leia if he created images of horrible things happening to Padmé.

He saw her holding hands with Padmé when she was a child as they walked down a beautifully decorated hallway, likely in the Alderaan Royal Palace. He saw Padmé braiding Leia’s hair in a pair of braids in a pink bedroom, one made for a little girl. They both seemed to be filled with joy when they were around each other, always smiling and making gestures of affection.

It was painful to watch—it reminded Vader of the child he had always thought he had lost. (Vader has not yet confronted Padmé about the possibility of their child being alive, but it was a conversation for a different day.) He tried to push that thought away, but it nagged at him, and he wondered to himself for a moment whether their child would have been a boy or a girl. It had also occurred to him that perhaps to Padmé, the princess is a replacement for the child she lost, and that is why she was so desperate to save her. Even if their child still lived, Vader doubts that Padmé would have had contact with them; they would have been separated. She had been living with the princess and Bail for so long, and he saw nothing in Leia’s mind that suggested another child lived with them.

Padmé was the strongest tether Leia had to her sanity while Vader relentlessly tortured her. She was the only thing that kept the panic from setting in too deep. He allowed her that one solace, but only because it was his wife.

When the princess was hallucinating that she was submerged in an ocean, the sensations and images had become so strong that she actually began to suffocate. Her body did not believe she was dying, but her mind did. He stood there and watched, arms crossed, as Leia fell to her knees, gasping desperately for air and cough up water that did not exist. There was no physical pain involved, but Vader figures that the memory will follow the princess into her nightmares.

Though it may be satisfying for him to have caused the princess pain, he is certain that Tarkin will not be pleased with the results of the interrogation. But he also assumes that his disappointment will be directed at the princess, and not at him.

Vader walks into the control room, where he was informed Tarkin is, overseeing the maintenance of the Death Star’s superlaser. The moment he approaches, Tarkin turns to him.

“How did it go with the princess?” he inquires.

Vader shakes his head. “No progress was made,” he reports.

“What do you mean?” Tarkin questions, cocking an eyebrow.

“Her resistance to the mind probe is considerable,” explains Vader. “It will be some time before we can extract any information from her.” Slowly, if the interrogations continued, he would be able to break her down. No one, not even the emboldened Princess Leia, can hold out for that long.

“And what of the other prisoner? Amidala?” asks Tarkin. “I was informed that she isn’t in a cell. You owe me an explanation.” His voice is not stern, simply curious. Vader doubts Tarkin cares much for Padmé’s condition. However, he must be aware of who she is; after all, Tarkin would remember Senator Padmé Amidala from the days of the Old Republic.

“She is someone from my past,” Vader tells him. “I’ve been collecting information from her, but it seems she has been mostly kept in the dark about the Rebellion.”

“She is old friend from your life before the Empire?”

Vader nods. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“How do you know she is telling the truth?” Tarkin inquires further. “She is a former senator, and one who strongly supported democracy and freedom, after all.”

“I’ve looked into her mind,” Vader replies. A lie, but he is willing to keep things from Tarkin to ensure Padmé’s safety. If he believes that she is irrelevant to the rebel’s plans, she would be left alone. “And she trusts me.”

“I see,” is all Tarkin says. He isn’t interested in Vader’s personal life; he only cares for Imperial business when it comes to Vader. He’s glad, because he doesn’t want to elaborate on the situation with Padmé.

An imperial officer interjects before either Vader or Tarkin can say anything more.

“The final check-out is complete,” he informs Tarkin. “All systems are operational. What course shall we set?”

He must mean the Death Star’s superlasers, Vader thinks. Tarkin’s eyes suddenly light up with a new idea, and he turns to Vader.

“Perhaps she would respond to an alternate form of persuasion,” Tarkin suggests.

“What do you mean?” asks Vader.

“I think it’s time we demonstrate the full power of this station,” he says. Vader does not need a further explanation; he sees now exactly what Tarkin’s intent is. The Grand Moff turns to the soldier, and says, “Set your course for Princess Leia’s home planet of Alderaan.”

“With pleasure,” replies the officer. He walks away from Tarkin and Vader, leaving them alone.

Padmé will not be pleased with the destruction of Alderaan. Throughout the history of the galaxy, planets have been destroyed, but never by an actual battle station. Entire races and cultures have been wiped out by war, planets have burned and lost all ability to harbor life forms. But Alderaan’s destruction would leave a major mark on galactic history, and would serve to demonstrate the true power of the Empire. Padmé will be furious when she finds out, but Vader will make no move to stop Tarkin from destroying the planet.

He almost smiles to himself when he realizes that Alderaan’s destruction will mean Bail Organa’s death. He supposes Padmé won’t have to send that holo recording, then, but he doesn’t mind. Vader could have settled for breaking Bail’s heart, but death is a suitable punishment.

If he could, he would hide Alderaan’s destruction from Padmé, but if she is to stay with him, there is no doubt she will eventually know. Alderaan was never part of their agreement; he is not breaking their deal by preventing the destruction of the planet. The only thing that truly matters is keeping the princess alive, for Padmé would never forgive him if he let her die. They made a deal, after all.

“Tarkin,” Vader captures his attention. “You intend for the princess to be executed after she gives us the information we need, yes?”

Tarkin nods but narrows his eyes. “Of course. Why?”

“I would like to keep her alive,” Vader tells him. “I believe that she can be broken, and she still knows a great deal about the Rebellion.”

“If all goes well, we will crush the Rebel Alliance very soon,” says Tarkin. “We won’t need her for long.”

“But for now,” Vader insists. “I believe she could be useful.”

Tarkin seems skeptical, but then he shrugs, either because he doesn’t want to argue with Vader, or because the timing of the princess’s death does not deeply concern him. “Alright,” is all he says. Tarkin is most likely focused on the demonstration of the Death Star’s power, but Vader knows he’ll have to argue with him if he is to keep Leia alive. He has not figured out the excuse he’ll use yet, but he will have to think of one soon, for Padmé’s sake.

She wears one of her old senatorial dresses. It was a much brighter era the last time she wore this gown; she’s kept it all these years, but never touched it. The gown is a deep oceanic color, with delicate floral designs all across the front. She wears a dark navy overcoat that is floor-length like her dress and makes it appear fuller at the skirt than it actually is. Padmé’s hair is simple and flows in chestnut waves down her back. To make up for the simplicity of her hair style, however, she wears a pair of gold earrings and a matching headband. (And, of course, the japor snippet hangs around her neck.)

Padmé is glad she did not wear clothes of a lighter color, because she would have stood out far more than she already does. Vader walks beside her down the walkway of the bridge of the Death Star, where great windows reveal the endless black space, freckled with millions of silver points of light. Ever since she left her room, she has felt suffocated by the number of gazes on her. It feels like she is under a microscope, being scrutinized for her every move, something she was once used to as a Senator of the Republic.

Vader seems calm, of course, but then again, he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like he used to. She misses that about him, especially now, because while Padmé could always read Anakin, Vader is a complete mystery to her. Because his face is concealed, the only sense of emotion she can get from him is through his words, which are distorted by his mask. She misses his soft voice and his kind blue eyes; everything about Darth Vader is alien to her. She can see that he was—is Anakin, and yet somehow, he still feels like a stranger.

He’s been corrupted and molded into Palpatine’s monster for nineteen years; she should not expect anything less.

Sometimes Padmé is able to catch whispers of what Vader’s men are saying when she listens closely. It is only bits and pieces, as they are very careful.

“I heard she was captured with the princess…”

“Just don’t question Lord Vader about it…”

“Yeah, he might give you a death sentence for it, you know how—"

“Stars, she’s… but what is she doing with…”

His men are terrified of him, but that much she already knew. But still, it’s appalling to actually see the way they look at him, like he’s a bomb about to detonate at any given moment. Despite their curiosity, none of them dare approach Vader and ask questions.

The Death Star appears to be moving, to be going somewhere. There are planets in the distance that are slowly growing larger with each passing moment. She just hopes the Empire is not starting an invasion on some innocent planet, or worse yet, attacking the rebel base. Surely, they could not know that it is located on Yavin 4. Leia would never tell them anything, and they have no other rebels that would know in custody, she doesn’t think.

“Where is the Death Star—where are we going?” Padmé asks Vader.

He is silent for a moment, staring out at space before he finally answers. “Nowhere important,” he replies.

Padmé narrows her eyes; he must not want to tell her, which confirms her initial suspicions. But she decides not to bring it up, as it would only cause conflict.

One of the Death Star’s admirals approaches Vader, but the man is careful not to look at Padmé for too long. He glances at her, but his eyes do not linger. “My lord,” he says. The man gulps nervously, and Padmé prays that Vader won’t choke the life out of him.

“Yes?” Vader replies, turning to the admiral.

“Grand Moff Tarkin requests that you—”

Vader shakes his head. “No, not now,” he tells the admiral. “I already know what Tarkin wants. Tell him I will be there when we reach our destination.”

Padmé simply listens in. By Vader’s sharp tone and the admiral’s confusion, she knows that her husband is keeping something from her. It would be pointless to ask, however. She would have to find out his secrets on her own.

“Oh, I see,” says the admiral. “I will inform him of that, my lord.” He bows his head respectfully and quickly marches away.

As soon as the admiral leaves, Vader turns to her. “Would you like to go somewhere more private?” he asks. “You seem very stiff.”

“I—it’s just that, there’s so many people around, and I don’t know this place,” Padmé explains.

“Not to mention that they are staring,” he says quite bluntly. She can’t tell if his tone sounds irritated or if it’s just always that flat.

“Yes, that too,” agrees Padmé.

Vader simply nods. She wishes that he was more expressive, but he only seems to clearly show one emotion: anger. She longs to see Anakin’s face, his kind blue eyes, soft, comforting smile. But she knows that it must be gone, burned away by the fires of Mustafar. She cannot imagine what he looks like now, and he clearly doesn’t want her to know.

Together, Vader and Padmé leave the bridge of the Death Star. As she walks away, she can feel the stares of Imperials burning into her back. The same feeling follows her until she and Vader reach a long, empty walkway that looks out into space.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Vader tells her as they walk. Their pace slows, and Padmé turns to look at the empty eyes of his mask. Her gaze is inquisitive and curious, but she isn’t sure that Vader even sees it. He doesn’t look at her, but instead keeps his head straight and staring forward.

“What happened to you after Mustafar?” he asks Padmé.

She had not been expecting that question. Taken aback, Padmé looks to the floor, thinking on how she will answer that. She’s almost certain that this conversation will lead up to a secret she holds very dear to her heart, a secret that she intends to keep locked away from Vader for as long as possible.

“I… I was dying,” she explains. “Obi-Wan took me to a hospital on Polis Massa. In order to save me, I was placed in carbonite. It’s different from what they use to freeze prisoners—a sort of medical carbonite, I suppose. I don’t know the science behind it, but over twelve years, I was gradually healed and in total hibernation. It was only seven years ago that I was awakened.”

“Carbonite,” Vader repeats. He ponders for a moment, and then continues, “Did it… have any side effects?”

Padmé wonders if this is his way of asking her if she is alright. Vader is still very guarded around her, she has observed, and it may be some time before she breaks through his icy composure.

“Yes,” she replies. “Because I was in hibernation, I didn’t age for twelve years. Physically and mentally, I’m only thirty-four. I should be forty-six.”

He is looking at her now, and he pauses, as if he wants to say something but then stops himself. Instead, Vader comments, “You lost a great deal of time.”

“I still forget that it’s been nineteen years,” Padmé admits.

Vader stops in his tracks and turns to peer out at space. Padmé mirrors his actions and joins him by his side, watching as the Death Star grows closer to the planets in the distance. There are only two that she can see now, but she thinks she recognizes them both. Kuat must be the green planet, and Alderaan the blue and white. They must be in the Core Worlds… but for what reason?

“I thought you were dead,” says Vader. “For all nineteen of those years.” If she isn’t mistaken, he sounds lamentable. “It is still strange for me to see you here, alive.”

“My survival was covered up well,” Padmé tells him. “A fake funeral with a fake body was arranged in Theed. It was broadcast across the galaxy and recorded into galactic archives. It was ensured that my death became a simple fact.” It doesn’t hurt now to admit this—after all, Vader already knows the truth that Padmé is alive and well.

“I know.” There is unmistakable solemnness in his voice, and Padmé, despite all of the awful things he has done, feels pity for him. He truly did believe that she was dead for nearly two decades. She experienced the same pain for seven years, but seven years feels like nothing compared to nineteen. Anakin’s suffering was far deeper, and far darker than hers.

“The Emperor told me that I killed you in my anger,” Vader reveals. “As soon as I recovered from Mustafar, I asked if where you were, and if you were alright. He said that it was my fault you died.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. It isn’t her fault that Palpatine lied to him. It isn’t her fault that he suffered for so long. But she apologizes anyway, because for a fleeting moment, Padmé doesn’t see Vader standing before her, but Anakin.

“I should not have harmed you,” says Vader. “On Mustafar. What I did, I… I want you to know that I have regretted it for the past nineteen years. I lost control of my anger.”

She thinks back to that moment, how enraged her husband was as he raised his hand. Padmé remembers feeling an invisible force close around her neck, pressing down on her airway until she lost consciousness. And though she did not know it at the time, it was the first time she truly saw Vader, and not Anakin. He had Anakin’s blue eyes, yes, his handsome face and his light curls, but it was Vader. The burning rage was unmistakably his.

“I forgave you for that a long time ago,” she tells him gently. After all, she had believed that he had died. She wasn’t going to hold a grudge against a dead man. “You thought I had tried to have you killed.”

It is still an absurd idea to Padmé that Anakin would ever think she would try to kill him by bringing Obi-Wan with her. But he clearly did not see it that way; he had grown paranoid.

“That does not excuse it,” Vader counters. He seems truly remorseful for Mustafar, an emotion Padmé never thought she would see on the Dark Lord of the Sith. It disappoints her that he can’t feel this way for anything else he has done, but at least this does prove to her that her husband still cares for her, that she isn’t just a possession to him. She had feared that Anakin was truly gone and that only Vader remained, a vicious shell of what her husband once was. But he isn’t—he’s right here and she can see him peeking out beneath Vader’s harsh exterior.

There is silence for a while, and the two of them just stare out at space for a while. Padmé doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t want to scare away that glimmer of Anakin that keeps shining in Vader’s darkness. But then she hears Vader’s mechanical voice again.

“There is something else,” he says, shifting the subject. “If you survived… did our child also live?”

He sounds so hopeful, and it breaks Padmé’s heart knowing that she must lie to him. There is too much of the Dark Side in him; she cannot trust that he wouldn’t try to turn her children over to the Emperor as he had done to himself.

Padmé shakes her head and tries to look grim. “He was a stillborn,” she lies.

“He?” Vader asks. “We had a son?”

“Yes,” she replies solemnly. Rather than her son’s death, Padmé focuses on the fact that she may never see Luke, that they may never be reunited. It inspires enough sadness within her to keep up her act and fake her grief for their son’s apparent death to Vader.

“What was his name?”

“Luke,” Padmé tells him. Her son is on Tatooine and they are in the Core Worlds; it couldn’t hurt for Vader to know. There are likely about a million Lukes in the entire galaxy. And perhaps he deserves to know at least that much, just the name of their son.

“Luke,” he repeats. He lingers on the name, drawing it out very slowly, like he savors the sound of it. Padmé wishes with every part of her that Anakin could have been a father, but he threw it all away when he pledged himself to Palpatine. All possibility of that is gone now.

“I would always imagine that he would have grown up to look like you,” Padmé muses. Her heart flutters at the thought of her son—because she knows he is alive, somewhere in the deserts of Tatooine, and that he is safe from the Dark Side and from the Empire. “Fair hair and soft blue eyes.”

But Vader ruins the moment, of course. His voice sounds bitter when he speaks. “I don’t look like that anymore,” he says.

Padmé furrows her brow. Her spirits had slowly been raising, but now they have dropped back into the pit of her stomach. “I don’t know what you look like now. Why won’t you let me see your face?” she asks him.

“No,” is all he says in response. His words are defensive now, guarded. Padmé shouldn’t have said anything. “I already told you what Obi-Wan did to me.”

Padmé bites down on her lip, unsure if she should dare say what she wants to say. If she pushes it, she could unleash Vader’s anger. But she could also appeal to Anakin’s reason. “It hasn’t ever occurred to you that your injuries could be healed?”

“All that can be done has been done,” he tries to shut Padmé down.

But she shakes her head. “I’ve seen rebels in worse shape than you. There was a man once who returned from a mission with none of his limbs. He had been burned severely in an explosion, and even parts of his face had been burned away. His lungs had also been damaged—some medics thought he wouldn’t make it.”

“My facial features are still intact,” Vader retorts defensively. He seems to take offense that Padmé implied otherwise.

“But my point,” Padmé continues, “is that that man was healed. He had skin grafts, among several other procedures for his burns, facial reconstruction, and even his hair was restored. His limbs were replaced by mechanical prosthetics, and even his lungs were repaired. It took a lot of time, but medical technology advances more and more almost every day. Have you been in that suit for nineteen years?”

Vader only nods. It only confirms Padmé’s statement even more; if Vader’s suit has not changed, then Palpatine is certainly trying to disadvantage him. He has enslaved him to that suit, she realizes, in order to keep him forever a servant of the Empire.

“The Emperor is—” Padmé hesitates. Should she go there? If she plants seeds of doubt in Vader towards his master, perhaps it could set him back on the right path. “I just think the Emperor is lying to you. Probably so you won’t overthrow him. He wants to keep you weak, he—”

Vader raises his hand, cutting Padmé off abruptly. “That’s enough,” he interrupts. “My master is not treacherous like Obi-Wan was. I owe him my life.”

“You should think about what I said,” Padmé insists. “Palpatine isn’t exactly benevolent.” She purposely tries to avoid referring to him as the Emperor, for he is not her ruler, and he never will be.

It has been a few hours since he spoke with Padmé. She is in her room now, completely oblivious to the events unfolding in the control room of the Death Star.

Princess Leia stands in front of Darth Vader, her hands bound by metal cuffs. Alderaan can be seen in the distance from the window of the control room; Vader can feel the princess’s apprehension and fear as she anticipates the worst.

Tarkin approaches them, a smug look on his face. But Princess Leia does not seem phased, at least not on the outside, even though she must know her home planet is in danger.

“Governor Tarkin, I should have expected to find you holding Vader’s leash. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board,” she snarks.

Vader would have laughed if the princess was more likeable, and if it were not unprofessional. She certainly is bold, he has to give her that much credit. She has a spirit much like Padmé’s, stubborn and strong.

“Charming, to the last,” Tarkin says in response. He places his hand on the princess’s chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “It will be quite the relief when you and your rebel friends are no longer a thorn in the Empire’s side.”

The princess scoffs and rolls her eyes. Princess Leia jerks her head away from Tarkin’s hand so that he releases her. She opens her mouth to say something, but Tarkin is not finished.

“Princess Leia, I would like you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make this battle station operational. No star system will dare oppose the Emperor now,” Tarkin declares proudly.

Vader listens, quite amused, as the princess fires back at Tarkin. “The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers.” He wonders where her attitude comes from—certainly, not from Bail or Breha Organa. Padmé must have been a strong influence on her growing up.

“Not after we demonstrate the power of this station. In a way, you have determined the choice of the planet that’ll be destroyed first,” Tarkin says callously. “Since you are reluctant to provide us with the location of the rebel base, I have chosen to test this station’s destructive power on your home planet of Alderaan.”

Princess Leia’s Force signature shifts from defiance and bravery to absolute turmoil and desperation. If only he could see the shock unfold on her features.

“No!” she protests frantically. “Alderaan is peaceful, we have no weapons. You can’t possibly—”

Tarkin cuts off her plea. “You would prefer another target? A military target? Then name the system!” he demands, glowering at the princess.

When Princess Leia hesitates, Tarkin comes nearer to her, glaring. “I grow tired of asking this, so it’ll be the last time. Where is the rebel base?”

She stares at Alderaan, her eyes wide and fearful. Vader can feel the tumult within her, the chaos in her mind and in her heart. She must be at war with herself, trying to decide whether she should give in for the sake of her home planet or remain defiant to the Empire. Vader silently places his bet on the latter.

Finally, the princess responds to Tarkin’s question. “Dantooine,” she answers quietly. She lowers her head, feigning defeat. “They’re on Dantooine.”

Needless to say, Vader does not buy it.

“There. You see, Lord Vader, she can be reasonable,” Tarkin says to him. But Vader believes even Tarkin must know deep down that the princess is lying to them.

“Continue with the operation,” the Grand Moff says to the officer at the Death Star’s controls. “You may fire when ready.”

“What?” Princess Leia shouts in disbelief. Waves of shake and panic overtake her as the despair sinks in that she will witness the end of her planet.

Vader does not mourn Alderaan. After all, today, he will see Bail Organa’s end. The man who dared set his sights on his wife—Vader is more than thrilled to know that he will die.

“You’re far too trusting,” Tarkin remarks to the princess. “Dantooine is far too remote to make an effective demonstration. But don’t worry, we will deal with your rebel friends soon enough.”

It is not truly about the princess, Vader believes. Tarkin wants to show the galaxy the true might of the Empire; the fact that it is the princess’s home planet being destroyed is only a bonus. He has a feeling that Tarkin would test the Death Star’s power on any planet within their reach, military or not, just to prove a point.

“No!” Princess Leia protests once more. She moves forward, but Vader holds her back by her shoulder with his hand, pressing her back against him. The princess recoils from him, trying to break free of his grasp, but he only tightens his grip on her. He holds her a few inches away from him now, keeping her glued in place.

She has got to be the most uncooperative, frustrating prisoner he has ever encountered.

The men at the controls pull a lever and push numerous buttons. Several red, white, and green lights at the controls panels begin to flash as the Death Star commences its attack on Alderaan. Tarkin stares eagerly at the planet, clearly ecstatic at the sheer power that will be released by the Death Star.

Princess Leia, on the other hand, is holding her breath. The tension within her is reaching a breaking point—a breaking point that will certainly be reached once Alderaan is destroyed. He anticipates a meltdown of some sorts, and he suspects it will be satisfying to see the princess’s strong exterior crumble.

The Death Star’s lasers gather into a single point, and within a mere few seconds, it blasts all the way to the planet of Alderaan. With one swift line of fire, Alderaan explodes into a million pieces, its inferno surrounded by a blazing white ring as the explosion expands into space.

A million voices cry out in sheer terror, but then they are suddenly silenced.

And just like that, an entire civilization and culture that stood for thousands of years, not to mention Bail Organa, has been wiped from the galaxy. It is an amazing, intoxicating power.

A darkness suddenly pools and festers in the Force. There is a great void that opens within the ancient energy field, and Vader can feel it, just as any other Force user in the galaxy can feel it. But it does not break Vader down or weaken him. That spreading darkness invigorates him, makes him feel more alive—it signifies the victory of the Dark Side once more over the Force and the galaxy.

Princess Leia quite literally collapses. She would have fallen to the floor if Vader had not caught her; something inside of her has finally snapped, and she lost the strength to stand. He holds her up and drags her towards the exit, turning her away from the sight of the asteroid field that has been created by Alderaan’s destruction. It isn’t an act of mercy, but an act of necessity. The princess is not going to watch anymore, and she does not need to. What has needed to be done is done.

Once in the hallway and flanked by a group of Stormtroopers, Princess Leia picks up her feet. Vader doesn’t release his hold on her, but he no longer has to drag her down the corridor. But then suddenly, the princess struggles against him, slamming her back against him and knocking her head against his chest plate. That must have been painful for her, but she pays no mind.

“Let me go!” she demands. The princess isn’t crying, but her voice cracks despite her anger. “Get your hands off me and let me go!”

He doesn’t. Despite her loud protests, Vader continues to force her down the hallway and all the way to the elevator that leads to the Detention Center. The princess struggles the whole way there, cursing and kicking. He would choke her to shut her up if it didn’t violate his agreement with Padmé.

When they finally reach the Detention Center, Vader is more than tired of the princess’s outburst. He quite literally throws her into her cell, but she braces herself against the wall so she doesn’t fall to the floor. Before Vader can close her cell door, Princess Leia turns to him and glares as harshly as she can manage. An inferno blazes in her dark eyes; he can feel her hatred for him permeating through the Force in a dark cloud.

“I hate you!” she shouts venomously. “When the Alliance wins the war, I hope they publicly execute you, and I hope it’s—”

But Vader doesn’t listen to the rest. He simply presses the button to close the princess’s cell door and then stalks away. He should be feeling victorious, but instead he is only irritated by an insolent rebel teenager.

[rubybluewrites-blog]

chapter iv. the princess

Darth Vader’s head is still whirling from his confrontation with Padmé, and though he wants to take time to meditate on the Dark Side, he has important business to attend to. The Devastator docked in the Death Star hours ago, and Vader is to attend a meeting with other high-ranking officials in the Empire. Padmé has been moved by his personal guards to a new room by his quarters, and Leia Organa to the Detention Center.

He and Grand Moff Tarkin enter the conference room to discuss the situation with the Rebellion. If any of them step out of line, Vader already knows he won’t be able to stop himself from snapping their neck. There is still an unstoppable, untamable rage blazing within him, kindled by the resurgence of hatred for Obi-Wan and the lies he filled Padmé’s head with. Lies that she still believes, lies that the Rebel Alliance and Bail Orgna have now enforced.

He glares at each and every one of the men sitting in the conference room; they better be on their best behavior, or they will surely face Vader’s wrath.

“…will continue to gain support in the Imperial Senate as long as—” Commander Tagge respectfully stops speaking when he sees that Lord Vader and Tarkin are now present. His head, along with everyone else’s, turns to the two high-ranking men.

“The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us, Tarkin says to Tagge, crossing the room to stand at his chair. Vader follows, but he keeps himself a few feet away from everyone else. “I’ve just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away.”

Padmé would hate the sound of that, but Vader relished it. The Old Republic was corrupt and inefficient—it deserved to burn. Someday, he would make Padmé see that.

Tarkin and Tagge begin to bicker over the bureaucracy and politics, which bores Vader so intensely that he tunes out. He has always hated politics, and politicians, for that matter—save for Padmé. But when Tagge mentions the Death Star plans, Vader’s attention is focused back in on the conversation.

“If the Rebels have obtained a complete technical readout of this station, it is possible, however unlikely, that they might find a weakness and exploit it.”

“The plans you refer to will soon be back in our hands,” Darth Vader growls sternly. He crosses his arms, his gaze trained coldly on Tagge. He wants to strangle someone—and perhaps Tagge will be so unlucky if he keeps pushing it.

Admiral Motti, in his arrogance, begins to argue about how much more powerful the Death Star is than any weakness the Rebels may find in the plans. Vader turns his anger on the admiral rather than on Tagge; he uncrosses his arms and clenches his fists threateningly. But Admiral Motti seems to transfixed on what he is saying to notice.

“This battle station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it!” he says.

Vader cuts in, and though his voice is flattened by his mask, his tone is teeming with anger. “Don’t be too proud of this technological terror you’ve constructed,” he growls. “The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force.”

Despite Vader’s anger, he may not have been so strongly inclined to squeeze the life out of Admiral Motti if did not respond so arrogantly—but alas, Motti’s pride gets the better of him. “Don’t try to frighten us with your sorcerer’s ways, Lord Vader. Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough—”

And that’s enough for Vader—any grip he had on his temper is now lost, and Vader releases his rage full-blast on Admiral Motti. He raises his hand and reaches out with his senses and feelings to morph the Force around Motti’s throat. The man begins to gasp for air, frantically grabbing at the collar of his uniform, as if that would save him.

A sadistic grin unfurls across Vader’s face. “I find your lack of faith disturbing,” he says.

Tarkin opens his mouth to speak, probably to stop Vader, but the Sith Lord makes a single, swift motion with his hand and Motti’s head abruptly falls against his shoulder. SNAP—the sound of his spine breaking resonates throughout the conference room. Some of the other men flinch, and Tarkin turns to scowl at Vader.

“Vader, that was absolutely unnecessary,” Tarkin chides.

“Perhaps,” he admits. His anger begins to settle, satisfied with the destruction he has wrecked upon Motti’s neck. “But Motti’s death is not a significant loss to the Empire.”

“We will discuss this later, Lord Vader, but for now,” says Tarkin, “I need everyone to focus back on the topic of the rebel base.”

Vader narrows his eyes; it would be in Tarkin’s best interest to not talk down to him. In the past few weeks, Vader has killed quite a few Imperials that he deemed incompetent, and he can sense Tarkin’s frustration with him. Killing Motti in front of the Grand Moff may not have been very tactical, but in the long run, it would only be ridding the Empire of a useless servant.

“Guards,” Tarkin signals to two men dressed in all black that stand at the door. They march forward and carry Motti’s body away—probably to an incinerator, or to a garbage chute.

Slowly, the other men at the conference table stop looking at Motti’s dead body as it disappears down the hallway and turn their attention back to Tarkin.

“Now,” he says, “Lord Vader will provide us with the location of the Rebel fortress by the time this station is operational. We will then crush the Rebellion with one swift stroke.”

Vader wonders to himself what Padmé would think of that, but he comes up with the answer instantly. She would be disgusted and agonized by the destruction of everything she has believed in, of everything she has been fighting for. Vader does not truly believe that Padmé is not a rebel; the princess was surely lying to him to protect her, which only proves to Vader that the depths of their relationship are greater than he had previously thought. Besides, it makes perfect sense that Padmé would be a member of the Rebel Alliance; she has been a freedom fighter before, and he would be surprised if that had changed now.

And if he does what he is supposed to do and tortures the princess like any other prisoner, Padmé may never forgive him. He cannot release her, and he must interrogate her if he is to locate the rebel base. It leaves him at quite the impasse.

The moment Padmé hears the sliding doors to her room open, she knows that it is Anakin—or Vader, as he insists is his name now. She is standing by the shelf against the wall on the left side of the room, perusing the objects that it holds. A tablet, likely for reading, a few trinkets, and a gray cube that seems to resemble a holocron. For hours now, she has been exploring her new room on the Death Star, which is much larger than the quarters she was in on The Devastator.

Padmé was given her suitcase from the Tantive IV, which now sits by the closet. She hasn’t touched it, hasn’t unpacked at all. She still wears her white bodysuit and boots, with her hair tied back into a braid. It’s been a day or so, she believes, but time is difficult to pinpoint in space and there are no clocks in her room.

Despite Vader’s presence, she does not turn to him when he enters the room. Rather, she fixes her gaze on the light gray wall in front of her.

“Padmé,” he says. The usage of her name is a request for her attention and she knows it. But she decides not to comply immediately; instead, she looks down at the tablet sitting on the shelf and pretends that Vader never spoke.

“If you want me to leave, all you have to do is say the word,” Vader continues. He makes no move to come closer to her and stands glued to his place in front of the door.

“I didn’t say that I want you to leave,” Padmé blurts. She hadn’t been thinking before she spoke, but deep down she knows that it’s true: she wants him to stay. Maybe it’s her curiosity to find out more about who Vader is, and what he intends to do, or maybe it’s her old feelings for Anakin.

Old or not, she has not tried to bury how she felt about Anakin. Despite her relationship with Bail Organa, the love she felt—and still feels—for her not-so-late husband was never dormant, was never sleeping within the depths of her heart.

“It seems that I upset you last time I visited,” says Darth Vader. She still has not gotten used to the idea that he is Anakin Skywalker, her husband; that cold, unforgivingly harsh mechanical voice is impossible to associate with Anakin, and so are all of the awful things she knows he has done.

Padmé turns to him now. When her eyes settle upon his dark form, her heartbeat accelerates so quickly that she can hear the blood roar in her ears. He is a towering man, and though she knows he is Anakin, he has this foreboding aura about him; when he steps into a room, it fills with a thick, suffocating darkness.

“Yes, well,” she replies, “it’s a bit difficult to accept that you… that Anakin…”

When Padmé trails off, Vader responds, “I can understand.” He seems to not know what to say, because he just stands there, wordless, the only sound coming from his respirator in the otherwise silent room. After a long pause, he goes on, “I… want to understand, Padmé.”

“You really are Anakin,” she says, shaking her head. She still can’t believe it, but Padmé cannot ignore something that is clear as day. It makes perfect sense that Vader is Anakin, that Anakin is Vader, no matter how much she wants to deny it. Anakin had turned to the Dark Side at the exact time Darth Vader arose as a Sith Lord, not to mention that Vader knew things about Padmé’s past that only Anakin could know.

“Why do you still wear that?” Vader inquires, pointing at the japor snippet around Padmé’s neck. He almost moves forward, but then remains in place, as if he thinks better of it. He had mentioned the necklace before in their previous confrontation, Padmé recalls bitterly.

“The japor snippet around your neck? I gave that to you when I was nine. And you still wear it after all these years, despite your relationship with Bail Organa.”

He wants a confirmation, she realizes. Vader is still testing the waters, experimenting with her emotions—that should infuriate her, but it doesn’t. She understands his reasons; after nineteen years, he does not know how much she has changed, or how little. Vader wants her to confirm that she still cares for him, but she isn’t sure if she can do that. She isn’t sure if she can stomach it, or if she can even admit that aloud.

Is it true? she wonders for a moment. But she knows the answer immediately.

Vader is a monster; one could see that just by looking at him. But if he does still love her, then doesn’t that mean that Anakin is still in there? Or maybe Vader doesn’t love her at all—it’s a thought that makes her heart twist, makes something inside her tremble. It is quite possible, Padmé considers, that Vader wants to possess her, solely out of his former attachment to her. But she would hate that. She wants him to love her; for her own sake and for his.

“I didn’t leave Anakin—I didn’t leave you behind,” Padmé replies after a brief moment of silence. She tries to inspire the good part of him that she wants to believe still lingers. If it no longer exists, she doesn’t know what she will do.

“Why?” he presses.

“You know why,” she tells him. “But you want me to say it, don’t you?”

“I asked nothing of you,” Vader responds, seemingly incredulous to what Padmé means. She doesn’t buy it.

“I still love Anakin,” Padmé says. And it’s true; she does. But she is unsure of how to separate Anakin from Darth Vader. She loves Anakin Skywalker, not this dark part of him. She does not love the destruction he has caused, the lives he has stolen in the name of the Empire. But she still carries a torch the man who fought to save the galaxy, for the man who was known as a galactic hero. The galaxy has forgotten about him now, but Padmé still remembers.

“Then why didn’t you come with me?” he asks her. “On Mustafar, I offered you everything and you turned it down.”

His question strikes a nerve and it leaves Padmé reeling. She is shocked that he would ask her such a thing, that he would doubt her feelings for him. But she shouldn’t be, considering how jealous he had been over Bail and how power-hungry he is now. She wonders how long he has been replaying that scene in his mind, twisting it to fit his own dark truth.

“Because I don’t want the Empire,” Padmé replies, crossing her arms in defiance. Her voice remains unwavering and completely calm. She wants to speak her opinion, but she does not want to send Vader into a boiling rage. “I don’t condone the things you’ve done. I don’t love the darkness you’ve succumbed to. What I love is the man I married, the man I spent years wanting to bring back to life.”

Vader says nothing in response. He must be processing everything she is saying, and so Padmé takes a chance. Now it is her turn to test him.

She moves forward, stepping towards him. He does not recoil from her, but he does not return the gesture, either.

“And I think,” she says, “that the good parts of you that I fell in love with still exist.” Padmé is standing only inches away now, and she peers into the eyes of Vader’s mask. Her own reflection looks back at her rather than the blue eyes that she yearns to see.

“Because if they didn’t,” Padmé continues, “I don’t believe that you would be here right now. You would have let me rot in a cell.”

“It is the Jedi who are not meant to know love,” Vader counters. The hope in Padmé’s face falls; she hasn’t given up on him, but his response is discouraging. They were doomed to a life of secrecy if he had remained a Jedi, but she would have preferred that over their situation now.

“Someday, I’ll convince you to see that I’m right,” says Padmé. Her words are certain, but she isn’t. She doesn’t know if she still has that much influence over him, or if he even truly loves her, for that matter.

“No,” he tells her, shaking his head. “It is you who will see reason.”

“Ani—”

“Padmé,” Vader interjects. “If you could only see things from my point of view, you would understand. You’re looking through the lens of a rebel, but I can make you understand Imperial justice and order the way that I do. The Republic was inefficient and weak—how could the Emperor take power so easily if it was not?”

“You’ve always been stubborn,” Padmé sighs in dejection.

“So have you,” he replies.

She would have smiled if the tension in the room wasn’t so thick. If they were bickering when she was still a senator and he was still a Jedi, they would have quickly fallen out of the argument. But that was nineteen years ago and the era of the Old Republic has ended.

“But as I recall, it was one of the things you liked about me,” Padmé muses in an attempt to appeal to his better side—to the pieces of Anakin that might still exist within him.

“That is not the point of this conversation.” Padmé frowns; that was not the response she wanted. She is astounded by just how little she knows him now—he is all but a stranger to her in some ways.

“I can forgive your betrayals if you agree to join me,” Vader tells her. “Mustafar, Bail Organa, your allegiance to the Rebel Alliance. We could put it all behind us and start again.” There is a spark of hope in his voice, like he has deluded himself into believing that Padmé could ever follow him down the dark path he has chosen.

Betrayals, she repeats in her head. She dwells on that word, and it ignites an inferno of frustration—border lining on fury—within her.

“I never—” her voice wavers as her bottom lip begins to tremble. “No. I never betrayed you. I didn’t even know you were alive until you told me who you are. Even now, I’m not—I’m not turning my back on you, Anakin.” She uses his former name in a desperate attempt to reach out to him, to chip away at the concrete walls he has blockaded himself around.

“Oh?” he nearly snarls. “You never betrayed me? You brought Obi-Wan to Mustafar, and then you joined the Rebel Alliance, an organization dedicated to bringing me and the Empire down.”

“Stop,” she tells him. “Obi-Wan stowed away on my ship, I had no idea he was there. And I’m against the Empire, Anakin, not you.”

“I am the Empire,” he snaps. Padmé does not have the same connection to the Force as Vader does, but she doesn’t need it to see that he is losing his temper. But she can’t back down; if she does, she’s giving in, and he will see it as a victory. She must make it clear that he will never turn her to the Empire’s side.

“Please, Anakin…” she trails off, but then finds her voice again. It returns much stronger and more certain this time. “You don’t have to be this way.”

But he does not stop. She’s set him off and it’s likely that this argument won’t end until he gets frustrated and storms out.

“And the worst betrayal of all,” Vader snarls. “Is that you started a romantic relationship with Bail Organa. He is the reason you and the princess are so adamant about protecting each other.”

Padmé lets go of any ill feelings and anger she was holding onto and building up. They all release at once the moment Vader mentions Leia, and she quickly spirals into a panic. Did he speak to Leia? Does that mean… no, he couldn’t, not his own daughter…

And yet he could. Even if he knew, Padmé isn’t sure that he wouldn’t harm her.

Her eyes widen and she staggers back. For a moment, she just stands there as all the color drains from her face, turning her white as a ghost. Padmé shakes her head and stares at him with anguish and disbelief in her eyes.

“Please tell me you didn’t hurt her,” she says. “She hasn’t done anything wrong; she’s just a child, Anakin.”

“She is a leader of the Rebel Alliance,” Vader counters. “She is more than just a child now.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Padmé pries, her voice becoming more and more frantic with every word she speaks.

“I did not harm the princess,” he replies, the irritation clear in his voice. She knows that he must have wanted to—but if he restrained himself, that is just proof to Padmé that he can be saved, that he still has redeeming qualities. “I simply spoke to her, and she was… somewhat compliant.”

“What do you mean?” Padmé’s entirely body is nearly trembling, the panic still sinking in, threatening to consume her.

“I only asked her questions about you,” Vader admits. “I spoke to her before I came here for the first time.”

“But do you intend to harm her?” demands Padmé.

“I must extract information from her,” he replies, not giving her a straight answer. Padmé narrows her eyes, knowing what that must mean. “I would prefer not to subject you to such things, but the princess is… a volatile member of the Alliance. She must be dealt with.” Her heart fills with dread the more Vader speaks—dealt with, he says. Padmé almost scoffs in disgust.

“No!” Padmé snaps. Despite the tears that have welled up in her eyes, her voice is stern. “Anakin, please, spare her.”

“Why?” he growls. “Because her death would hurt Bail Organa?”

“Because it would hurt me,” she fires back. Padmé grows tired of him turning the conversation around back to Bail; she cannot see his face, but his jealousy burns through any composure he had that she knows almost exactly how he feels. Although Vader is clearly angry, she believes she may be able to break through to him, to appeal not to Vader, but to Anakin Skywalker.

“Please,” Padmé begs. A single tear dribbles down her face, and she silently hopes that it will make Vader feel guilty. Not because she wants him to hurt, but because if he feels guilty for hurting her, then her husband is truly still in there. “I love her; she’s like—” Padmé pauses for a moment, not sure if she should finish that sentence. “She’s like a daughter to me,” she finishes. “Isn’t there anything I could do to save her?”

“Can you provide me with the location of the rebel base? Can you return the Death Star plans to me?” he asks, crossing his arms. She doesn’t believe it’s a serious question; he must already be aware that Padmé cannot give him those things.

“I don’t know where it is,” she lies. But Vader must know that she isn’t telling the truth, no matter how well she tries to hide it. “And I don’t know what happened to the Death Star plans.” Pretending to know nothing is and feigning innocence is her best bet, she decides. Vader may believe her eventually if she keeps the act up.

But then a new idea comes to mind. There is only one other thing that she can use to bargain for her daughter’s life—herself. She can’t believe she’s considering it, but there is nothing Padmé wouldn’t do to keep Leia alive.

“I can’t give you the location of the base or the plans, but,” Padmé says, “you said that you wanted me to join you. If you keep Leia alive, and if you don’t harm her, I will relinquish my allegiance to the Rebel Alliance and pledge it to the Empire instead. I’ll come with you willingly.”

The sound of his respirator is deafening. Neither of them speak for several moments; Vader must be considering her offer, weighing his options.

Finally, he says, “I’m an ambitious man, Padmé. I want a little more than that.”

“What more could you possibly want?” she asks, almost in disbelief. But she should have seen this coming, with how power hungry he is.

“I want you to send a recording to the Rebel Alliance,” Vader tells her, “of you swearing your allegiance to the Empire. And I want you to tell Bail Organa that you never loved him.”

Padmé recoils from him, scowling. She loves her husband, but right now, she looks at him and just sees a monster again, just as she viewed him before he told her that he and Anakin are the same. “That’s incredibly cruel, Anakin,” she remarks.

She never could have loved Bail the way she has loved Anakin, but to say something like that to him—it would be heinous.

“Very,” he agrees with a nonchalant nod. “And I’ll add one more demand to that list: you will stop referring to me as Anakin, but as Vader instead—my true name.”

“Will you set Leia free?” Padmé inquires, rather than outright agreeing to his new demand.

“That is asking too much,” Vader replies. “I cannot allow a leader of the Rebel Alliance to roam free. I will let her live, and I will allow you to see her.”

She feels like her heart has been wrenched out of her chest. For him to ask such awful things of her, to hurt Bail like that, and to forever burn the bridges between her and her rebel friends—it was just so cold. But that’s exactly what Vader is. She is not convinced that her husband is gone, but Vader certainly makes it believable that the good in him is lost forever.

“Why do I have to hurt Bail like that?” Padmé tries to protest. “How does that solve anything for you?”

“I could always just kill him,” Vader muses. “I would like to, but breaking his heart will suffice.”

Padmé says nothing. She just stares at him with watery eyes and a furrowed brow.

“Do you agree to my terms?” he prompts her.

“I—” she wants to shake her head no and tell him that she will never join him, that she will never do the things he asks of her. But she knows what the consequences of those actions would be. And Leia means more to Padmé than herself, Bail, and her friendship with the rebels combined.

“Yes,” she says reluctantly. “I agree.”

Padmé will never truly be loyal to the Empire, but if she has to act like she is to save her daughter, she will do it. She just wishes that she didn’t have to fulfill Vader’s other terms, but she supposes that he could do worse. The knowledge that she will break Bail’s heart will likely appease him enough not to kill him, and heartbreak is better than death. Bail could get over her. He could move on and be happy with time.

“Good,” Vader says in response. He turns to the door, but before he leaves, he turns his head back to Padmé. “And since you’ve decided to cooperate, I would like it if you would allow me to show you around the ship—since you will spend a considerable amount of time here.”

She doesn’t look at him, but she replies, “Okay.”

And then he is gone, leaving Padmé to cross the room and bury her face in one of the pillows on her bed.

Darth Vader is still feeling elated by the time he is marching down the hallway in the Detention Center to the princess’s cell. His anger for Padmé's lack of cooperation quickly fizzled out when she promised herself to the Empire, and to him. Today is quite the victory for him, and it may even get better if he is successful with the princess. A mind probe floats behind him, and his usual interrogation team follows him as well. He won’t be needing them, but he didn’t want to say that in front of Tarkin, who was present when they were dispatched. Vader will be expected to harm the princess, and if he doesn’t, Tarkin may question him, which is something he doesn’t need. Nothing must seem out of place; he must be cautious.

Vader intends to hold up his end of the bargain. He will not harm the princess—physically. It is a good thing that Darth Vader is an experienced interrogator; he has more tricks up his sleeve than violence. Of course, he was going to make the princess bleed until she broke, but then Padmé’s offer came along. He couldn’t have refused; it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Psychological and emotional torture would have to suffice. He’s been considering exactly how he’ll do it—he has all but decided that he will begin the interrogation by making the princess hallucinate that everyone she loves is dying. If he can make her believe that her family and friends are dying because of her, perhaps she will break. Vader isn’t sure what he will do if Leia resists his interrogations, but he will deal with that if the time comes.

When he reaches the princess’s cell, he presses a button on by the frame of the door. The entrance slides open, revealing the princess, still dressed in white with her hair in two buns on the sides of her hair. Panic flashes in her eyes, but it is gone as soon as it comes. She steels herself and looks directly at Vader.

“And now, Your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base,” Vader tells her. The mind probe drifts into the center of the cell, and the princess’s brow furrows as she realizes what it is, and what Vader intends to do with it.

He turns to his men. “I would like a private interrogation,” he instructs them. “Wait in the entry room of the Detention Center.”

Neither the interrogation team or the princess questions him. The men simply leave, and Leia shifts uncomfortably as the doors close behind them.

Vader can sense the fear coming off of her in waves, and he finds it immensely satisfying to know that the Princess of Alderaan, known for her boldness and bravery, is afraid of him. Being alone in a cell with a Sith Lord must be the last place she wants to be, but there is no escape for Leia Organa, and there never will be, if Vader has anything to do with it.

[rubybluewrites-blog]

chapter iii. the dark truth

Padmé Amidala stares blankly at the ceiling of the room the Stormtroopers placed her in. Despite the fear and anxiety building within her, she lays almost peacefully on the gray bed in the room. She’s been panicking so much for the past few hours that she just feels numb now, like all the feeling has just drained out of her.

She’s already exhausted all of the possibilities why Vader sent her here, all of which end badly. There probably isn’t much she can do the save Leia, either, not unless she can escape. But without outside help, escaping from a high-security Star Destroyer didn’t seem very plausible. Padmé can’t even get out of this room—she already tried—let alone an entire ship.

If she dies, perhaps she would see Anakin in the afterlife, if there is one awaiting her. Padmé smiles weakly to herself; it is a nice thought among many grim ones.

Padmé sits up on her bed when she hears the doors to the room slide open. Darth Vader is standing in the doorway and tentatively takes a few steps forward, almost as if he is nervous. She just peers at him, completely silent and still, waiting for him to speak rather than taking initiative herself. There’s an anxious knot gathering in the back of her throat, she just wishes he would disappear. She wants this all to just disappear; she wishes to be back on Alderaan, watching the snow fall outside the window that looks into the courtyard.

Padmé doesn’t want to talk to him at all, but she knows she doesn’t have much of a choice. While she may not be in a cell, she is most certainly a prisoner.

“Are you afraid?” he asks her. Vader must sense her apprehension through the Force; Padmé remembers that Anakin and other Force users could usually interpret others’ emotions just by being in their presence.

Yes, she answers in her head, but she would never admit that aloud. She won’t give him the pleasure of knowing that she fears him.

Instead of answering, Padmé says nothing. She just looks into that empty stare of his and crosses her arms in defiance.

“You don’t need to be,” he continues once he realizes that he isn’t going to get a vocal answer from her. She supposes that he doesn’t really need one; she doesn’t even understand why he asked her that question in the first place, when all he has to do is reach out through the Force to know.

This time, she says something in return. “And why is that?” she inquires, truly curious. His intentions are still a mystery to her, and it makes her beyond nervous not knowing what he wants.

Vader does not answer her question. Instead, he replies with a question of this own. “In the ship, you said you wouldn’t tell me anything because you ‘hate me.’ Explain that to me; I have not seen you in nineteen years. What have I done to warrant your hatred?”

Nineteen years? Padmé ponders. Could Vader have been someone she knew? A former Jedi, perhaps?

“What do you mean, ‘nineteen years?’” she asks. “I’ve never seen you in person until today.”

“You have,” he replies. “You just don’t know it.” Before Padmé can say anything, Vader continues. “I would like for you to answer my question. Why did you say that you hate me?”

He demands nothing of her, Padmé realizes. One would think that Vader would only give orders, give her commands. But he doesn’t—instead, he requests this information of her.

She gulps, but the nervous knot in her throat remains. Though she has heard his voice many times now, Padmé still hasn’t gotten used to the deep, mechanical voice that still sounds somewhat human. Nor has she gotten used to his respirator, which is unnervingly loud in the thickening silence.

Padmé stands so that she is more level with Vader, trying to muster her courage. Even when she is up on her feet, the shadowy figure of Darth Vader still looms ominously over her. She feels trapped, like a caged animal being prepared for slaughter, despite the fact that Vader has made no move to harm her. He hasn’t even threatened her.

But it is impossible for her to not be comfortable when she is standing in the same room as a Dark Lord of the Sith. Her room is a relatively standard size for a spacecraft, but still smaller than most bedrooms in a house or an apartment. Vader is standing on the other side of the room from her, but he not actually many feet away from her.

She looks at Vader, regards the man who murdered her husband with nothing but disdain. “I said that I hate you because I do,” she responds. “You killed my husband.”

“Did I, now?” he replies. If his voice wasn’t so flattened and distorted by his mask, Padmé may have thought that she had amused him. “And who told you that lie? Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

Padmé tenses up and furrows her brow in both confusion and frustration, easily betraying to Vader that he is correct. It was Obi-Wan who told her that Darth Vader was the man who took away her husband, but how could Vader simply assume that?

Darth Vader takes a step toward her, and Padmé nearly staggers back, but the edge of the bed stops her.

“Padmé,” he says, almost softly. Vader speaks her name with such familiarly that it unsettles and flusters her. “Obi-Wan lied to you.”

“Don’t say my name like that,” she snaps, glowering at him now. “Don’t say my name like you know me.”

“I know you better than you think,” Vader counters. “And unlike Obi-Wan, I’m not a liar. I didn’t kill your husband.”

Padmé’s heart flutters in her chest like a caged bird. She wants that to be true. She wants Anakin to be alive so badly, so desperately, and Vader must know this. He’s using Anakin against her, but for what, she doesn’t know. There is a part of her, a dark, despairing part of her, that wants to fall right into Vader’s lie. But she knows better than to trust a Sith; Padmé is no fool.

“It is true that Anakin Skywalker is gone, but he is not dead,” continues Darth Vader. “In order for me to live, he had to cease to exist.”

“What do you mean by that?” Padmé presses, crossing her arms. She doesn’t believe one word that comes out of Vader’s mouth, but she is curious to see how whatever twisted plan he’s conjured up will unfold. Besides, she has a gut feeling that if she gives him most of the responses he wants, he would be less inclined to choke the life out of her or her daughter.

“I was Anakin Skywalker.”

He may have pushed it too far with this one. Padmé hasn’t said a single word in several seconds, but he can feel the turmoil in her Force signature and see the bewilderment on her face. She seems to have shut down; it’s like she has caved in on herself. It’s like she was glass and he shattered with just those four words—“I was Anakin Skywalker.”

Darth Vader does not rush her. He is not a patient man, but he would wait for Padmé, especially in such a delicate situation.

Finally, Padmé opens her mouth to speak, and Vader is hanging on to every last word. “You’re—” she starts, but then her voice breaks as her brown eyes become glossy with tears that threaten to brim over. Padmé draws in a deep breath, and Vader can feel her through the Force, struggling to push her maelstrom of emotions into a corner.

“You’re lying—that’s not true. That’s impossible!” Her voice is slightly raised now, but it is not out of anger, but rather in tumult.

Her emotions are haywire. She’s losing it on the inside, but Vader doesn’t need the Force to tell him that.

“The only reason you are upset is because you know that it is possible.” Darth Vader is slowly pushing her over the edge, but he figures that perhaps that is exactly what she needs to the see the truth.

His gaze moves up and down Padmé until it finally settles on her necklace. He had noticed it before on the Tantive IV, and he knows exactly what it means. Padmé may say that she hates him, that she hates Darth Vader. But the japor snippet she wears tells another story: that after all these years, she still loves Anakin Skywalker.

She still loves Anakin Skywalker—in spite of her romance with the princess’s father. Vader never saw Bail Organa as a threat in the days of the Old Republic, when he was still a Jedi hero. It makes his blood boil to think that all that time he was with Padmé, Bail may have had his eye on her. Of course, Bail would have been unaware of their relationship, but he was married to Breha at the time. There is the slightest possibility that Padmé and Bail may have been together while Padmé carried on with him, but Vader tries to put that thought to rest immediately. His anger has not completely blinded him right now, and he shouldn’t scare Padmé with any assumptions.

“The japor snippet around your neck?” he says. “I gave that to you when I was nine. And you still wear it after all these years, despite your relationship with Bail Organa.” And there it is—a little flame of his outrage at Padmé and Bail’s relationship. Ever since the Princess of Alderaan had spilled that to him, he hasn’t been able to stop mulling over it in his mind. Padmé and Bail together is an utterly miserable thought; her lips against his, them spending the night together… His insides twist abhorrently.

Perhaps he should kill Bail in his spare time, he ponders. He would make him suffer, of course, perhaps cut off his limbs and stab holes into his body before he lets him die. But he would neat about it, ensure that it didn’t look like Vader was responsible for his death. Padmé would never know.

His anger is kindling within him, but he is on his best behavior right now. For once, Vader is actually trying to mind himself. Padmé’s presence in calming enough to prevent him from lashing out, luckily.

“Leave Bail out of this,” Padmé tells him sternly. The fire in him grows as she defends her lover, and he vows silently to himself that there is nothing she can do to protect that rebel scum from his wrath. It would hurt Padmé if he killed Bail, and that fact alone makes him want to cut every piece of furniture into pieces with his lightsaber. The fact that she actually cares for him is what hurts him so deeply. He can feel it through the Force that Padmé does genuinely love Organa. She isn’t just using him, stringing him along like a toy. But he wishes that she was. It wouldn’t take away his inflamed jealousy, but it would soften the blow.

“You have no business in my love life.” Padmé’s features are no longer fearful. He can tell that she is trying to be more austere, to compose herself, but she cannot stop the moisture from gathering in her eyes. She can only fight them from falling.

Vader doesn’t want to see her in pain like this, but he tries to reason that the pain is necessary for Padmé to accept the truth. And once she does, perhaps it won’t hurt her anymore.

“I mourned you for years, Padmé,” he tells her. “And I still did until today. But clearly, you didn’t do the same.” His voice is full of venom and he knows that what he said was cold, but he’ll have to make her more vulnerable if he’s going to make her believe him. Padmé has these walls up, and Vader must break them down.

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel about my husband’s death,” Padmé retaliates. Along with the sadness in her features, there is anger, too. He can feel it rise within her, and though it is directed at him, he likes the way it looks on her. “You know nothing.”

Inside of his mask, which Padmé cannot see, Vader is raising his brow. “Must I continue to prove that I am who I say I am?” he asks her. When she doesn’t answer immediately, he continues. “We married on Naboo, by a lake. Our twenty-second anniversary passed just weeks ago.”

He seems to have struck a nerve, because a single tear finally falls from Padmé’s eye. She isn’t glaring at him anymore, and the anger that once twisted her features has no relaxed and given way to her realization. The truth is starting to sink in—he can feel it.

But Vader doesn’t stop there. “There was once a time when I gave you my lightsaber in your office on Coruscant. We were arguing about your duties as a senator getting in the way of our relationship,” he says. Vader recalls the moment like it was yesterday. He was a young, naïve Jedi, and Padmé the responsible Senator of Naboo. He had suggested going on vacation for two weeks, but Padmé told him that presenting a bill to the Senate was more important. Vader had given Padmé his lightsaber to prove how important their relationship was to him—after all, a Jedi’s lightsaber was his life, as his former master had once told him.

“And you thought I was making fun of you,” Vader finishes his little flashback. Though he doesn’t mention it to Padmé, he remembers pulling her close and kissing her in that office. He has not kissed his wife in nearly twenty years, not since that night on Coruscant after the attack on the Jedi Temple. And he realizes, with a sinking feeling in his chest, that he would probably never be able to again. Not only is Padmé against the Empire right now, but he is also confined to this suit, and his injuries… he would never allow Padmé to see him like that.

Padmé is shaking her head at him, and he decides to take a look into her mind. It isn’t difficult to intrude on her thoughts; her guard has fallen.

Anakin and I were completely alone in my office, she is thinking. He couldn’t know that, unless… unless…

Vader’s heart swells with hope that she’ll believe him, that he’s gotten through to her. As Padmé remains silent, deep in her thoughts, Vader decides to continue to peek into her mind. He has never read her thoughts before, and he has never been more intrigued by the workings of someone’s mind. Vader has interrogated countless rebels, flipped through their deepest thoughts and memories, but this is different. He isn’t forcing his way into Padmé’s thoughts, either. He is just barely grazing the surface, reading only what is going through her mind at this instant. Vader could delve deeper, but decides to allow Padmé her privacy.

His onslaught of nostalgia has sent her mind whirling. A moving image appears in Padmé’s head, one of that day in her office. He is quite pleased, but also somewhat haunted, by the exact moment Padmé has captured.

Padmé holds his lightsaber in her hand, looking up at him doubtfully. She is wearing one of her senatorial dresses, grand and beautiful and elegant.

“It’s yours,” Anakin tells her. Anakin, not Darth Vader. Anakin Skywalker, with his light brown hair, gentle sky-blue eyes, unmarred and handsome features. “Believe me now?”

Padmé’s eyes are copper in the sunlight that pours into her office. She scoffs and her gaze flickers down to the ground, but then returns to Anakin. “If all you want to do is make fun of me,” she sighs, “I think you should just go.”

She begins to walk away, but Anakin puts his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “That’s not what I want,” he replies, caressing her cheek with his gloved hand. “Not at all.”

The disappointment on Padmé’s face falls and is replaced by warmth. She smiles up at her husband and leans into kiss him, and—

Padmé’s thoughts are suddenly cut off as she shuts herself down. Vader realizes that while he was listening in, he had been holding his breath, and the room had gone utterly quiet without the sound of his respirator.

Her incredulous stare bores into him, but the truth is setting in. The turmoil, the chaos within her begins to subside, leaving clarity in its wake. Padmé knows the truth and he can feel it, knows it just as well as she does.

Another tear falls down her cheek. He wishes she wouldn’t cry like that, and if he didn’t think she would recoil from him, he would have wiped it away with his hand.

“If you’re Anakin,” she says, her voice almost cracking as she speaks, “then show me. Remove your mask, and then I’ll know the truth.”

He can’t—he won’t. Despite having almost all of the power in the galaxy, Vader’s appearance and injuries make him feel absolutely pathetic and weak. He can bend the Force with a simple raise of his hand, cut down armies with his lightsaber, but at the end of the day, Vader is forever crippled by what Obi-Wan did to him.

“No,” he tells her. “You already know the truth.” And he’s right, he knows he is. Padmé knows that he is—was Anakin. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so upset. She wouldn’t be crying.

“Why?” she asks. “Why do you wear it?”

He decides to enlighten her. Though it may be embarrassing for him, Padmé deserves the truth, and he is hoping that this new information will unveil the truth that Obi-Wan is not the man Padmé believes he is, that he is deplorable.

“Obi-Wan did this to me,” Vader replies acerbically. “On Mustafar, we battled. To say the least, it did not end well for me. He severed the three of my remaining limbs, and I fell near a river of lava. The flames caught onto my clothes. Obi-Wan stood there, watched as I burned alive.”

Padmé inhales sharply. Her brow furrows in disbelief, shock, and pity. “Obi-Wan wouldn’t… he cared about you, he—”

“He is the reason I have been imprisoned in this suit for the past nineteen years,” Vader snaps. His voice raises slightly for a moment as his anger flares up, but he tries to calm his tone. “Do not defend him, Padmé. He did everything in his power to drive us apart, to hurt me.”

“Obi-Wan didn’t drive us apart,” Padmé argues, shaking her head. “I didn’t leave you, Anakin.” He wants to correct her and tell her that Anakin is no longer his name, but given her emotional state, he decides to let it be for now.

“You left me when you turned to the Dark Side,” she continues. “I could never be a part of that. I always knew you had anger, but I never thought… I never thought it could be so strong to drive you to… to this.”

Padmé no longer regards him as a stranger, but she still looks at the darkness within him and is utterly disappointed. And there’s something else, now—despair. He feels her spirit slowly being crushed and knows, with a pang of guilt, that it is because of him.

“Anakin Skywalker was weak,” Vader says, his hands clenched into fists. He’s trying not to lose it, but the fire within him has blazed into an inferno now. This is all Obi-Wan’s fault; he’s poisoned Padmé’s mind and she’s still turned against him after all this time. “I destroyed him.”

Two more tears dribble down Padmé’s cheeks. “Don’t talk like that,” she says. “There is good in you. I know it, I—I know you.”

But she is wrong. There is no conflict within Vader; he is fully realized as a Dark Lord of the Sith, and if not for his injuries, he would have risen far above his master by now.

“In time, you will realize that things are better this way,” he tells her. His fists are still clenched at his side, but there is nothing to release his anger on right now. Vader had made the mistake of taking his rage out on Padmé, and he has regretted it for nearly two decades. He will not repeat that mistake.

“Anakin—”

“That is not my name,” he cuts her off. His words have grown harsher, and Padmé seems to realize that, because she flinches when he snaps at her.

“I—” she begins, but then she stops. Padmé sits down on the bed looks down at the ground, refusing to look at him. “Just go, please.”

She buries her face in her hands to shield her tears from Vader’s eyes. “Just leave,” she tells him again. Her voice is firm despite the sobs that begin to rack her body.

Vader wants to apologize, but he decides to do as Padmé says. He turns and walks out the door, leaving Padmé alone in her room.

The moment he is gone from her presence, Vader is no longer able to contain himself. That calming aura of Padmé’s has vanished, leaving him to succumb to the inferno of his own fury. Vader storms down the hallway and turns the corner to the passageway that leads to the main hall of this floor. As he emerges into the main corridor, several of his men glance at him in fear, but they quickly look away, knowing not to stare when Vader is in one of his moods.

Guilt, despair, shame—these grim emotions always have a way of manifesting themselves in the form of rage within Vader. And when an Imperial protocol droid passes by him and says, “Greetings, Lord Vader,” he quite literally loses it.

Vader turns to the droid, absolutely seething, and grabs it by the neck. Several Imperials stop dead in the hallway, while others move along, minding their business, not wanting to be next. He smashes the droid against a wall again and again, until the light that illuminates its eyes flickers and dies and it is nothing more than a scrap of metal. It doesn’t even look like it was once a droid.

He turns and looks at the railing at the end of the hall. Below him are several other floors, where Imperials march and meander about. Some of them are probably actually having a pleasant day, and he instantly hates them for it.

Vader takes banged up metal that was once a protocol droid and thrusts it over the railing. It falls down several floors, hitting a group of armored Stormtroopers. A few of them fall to the floor, while the others help them up.

“Ow!” one of them exclaims. “What was that?”

But by the time they look up, Vader is already gone, rushing down the main hall to the elevator.

[rubybluewrites-blog]

chapter ii. chasing ghosts

Her heart stops the moment she lays eyes on him. The infamous Dark Lord of the Sith stands only a few feet away from her, and if she had the choice, she would have been paralyzed in fear. However, the Stormtroopers continue to march she and Leia forward. Padmé hesitates for a moment, but she is prodded back into movement by the trooper behind her.

Padmé does not like being afraid; it makes her feel weak, and she has never considered herself to be a weak woman. But it was difficult to control such a strong emotion like fear when she was in the presence of one of the darkest beings in the galaxy. Darth Vader—slayer of rebels, murderer of the innocent. She has only seen him in holograms, never in person. She has only heard stories; and she had hoped that they would just remain stories, never become a reality.

But there she is, standing before him.

Vader’s back is turned to her when they approach. He seems deep in discussion with one of his commanders, but he must sense them, or hear them, because he turns around once they are closer. His breathing is heavy and mechanical, distorted by his mask, just as Padmé’s fellow rebels had described to her.

He is a tall man, dressed in a dark suit with a cape. That infamous black mask covers his face, concealing all emotion. Vader has always been quite the mystery; no one knows who he was before he became Darth Vader, if he ever had a different identity. There are speculations as to why he wears the mask; some say that he is horribly disfigured, that he has no face at all, that it hides his true identity, and Padmé has even heard that he is not even a man, but just a droid programmed by the Emperor.

He appears to freeze when he sees them. Vader makes no move towards them, but rather, he waits for the Stormtroopers to bring Padmé and Leia closer. Once they are standing face to face, he still says nothing, does nothing. Padmé’s entire body has gone rigid and she feels as if she is made of ice; she wishes that he would just say something, anything, rather than leave her in suspense. She expected him to yell at them, chastise them for being rebels, demand information. But he just stands there.

If he was going to speak, Leia does it before he can get a word out.

“Darth Vader, only you could be so bold,” she remarks bravely. Padmé knows that Leia must be terrified on the inside, but she certainly hides it well. Her eyes are full of fire and hatred—a look Padmé had seen in Anakin’s eyes the last time she saw him on the blazing planet of Mustafar.

“Leia…” Padmé warns, but her daughter brushes her off. Darth Vader crosses his arms defensively; she wonders what is beneath that mask, if his features are stoic or full of rage. Padmé cannot tell if he is looking at her or at Leia, or perhaps switching between both. All she sees is herself reflected in his blank stare.

“The Imperial Senate will not sit still for this,” continues Leia, her voice much sterner now. “When they hear you’ve attacked a diplomatic—”

Darth Vader is quick to cut her off. “Don’t act so surprised, Your Highness,” he snaps. His voice is so harsh that it almost makes Padmé jump. She had heard that Vader spoke with a very mechanical voice, but it sounded so much crueler than she ever imagined. He truly is a menacing man—or machine, whatever he is.

“You weren’t on any mercy mission this time,” Darth Vader continues. “Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by rebel spies. I—”

Now it is Padmé’s turn to interject. “We didn’t receive any transmissions,” she asserts. Her heart beat jumps into acceleration as Vader’s head turns away from Leia and his gaze rests on her. “The Tantive IV is just a consular ship.”

Darth Vader goes utterly silent, save for the sound of his breathing. Leia looks at Padmé in confusion, but Padmé doesn’t break away her gaze from Vader. She waits for him to speak, but as the moments go by, she too becomes confused by his reaction. It is almost as if she shut him down with her words.

Growing impatient and even more anxious, Padmé speaks once more. “But I suppose attacking an innocent ship isn’t abnormal for someone as vile as you, Vader.”

He replies this time, his voice low. “This is no innocent ship… Amidala.”

“A-Amidala?” Padmé repeats. She tries to compose herself, but she doesn’t think that will save her if Vader knows who she is. “You must be mistaken—”

“There is no use lying to me,” he tells her. “I know who you are. So, you are a member of the Rebel Alliance, then?” Perhaps Padmé was imagining things, but Darth Vader’s voice seemed less harsh than it did before.

“We’re on a diplomatic mission to—” Padmé begins, but Vader cuts her off.

“Everyone on this ship has said the exact same thing,” he says. “But no one can tell me what happened to the plans the rebel spies sent here.”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leia retorts. “I’m a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan.”

“You are part of the Rebel Alliance, and a traitor!” he retaliates. The anger and the harshness quickly returns to Vader’s voice at Leia’s words. “Take her away!”

The Stormtroopers begin to push Leia and Padmé towards the exit of the ship, but Vader stops them. “No,” he commands. “Take the princess away. Leave the other rebel here.”

“What?” Leia protests. Half of the Stormtroopers begin leading her away, while the other half remains flanking Padmé. She begins to struggle, but it isn’t to any avail, as she is outnumbered and her hands are bound. “No! Let me go! I’m not leaving her with him!”

Padmé moves to try to comfort her daughter, but she is held back by one of the Stormtroopers. “Leia—” but then her voice breaks. Where are they taking her daughter? To be tortured? To be killed? Any of those ideas made her feel absolutely sick.

“Padmé!” Leia yells, still struggling, but the Stormtroopers persist, leading her out the door into Darth Vader’s Star Destroyer, The Devastator.

Once her daughter disappears, Padmé turns back to Vader and scowls at him. “You have quite the nerve,” she ridicules him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You seem more reasonable than the princess,” he tells her. “Perhaps you can be convinced to tell me the truth. I already know the Death Star plans were sent here. I already know this a rebel ship.”

“I don’t know anything about Death Star plans,” Padmé repeats the same thing she and Leia and every other passenger has already told him. “There’s a reason why you haven’t found them: they’re not here. We don’t have them.” Technically speaking, it wasn’t a lie. The plans should be safely on their way to Tatooine now, inside of R2-D2’s storage compartment.

Vader shakes his head. “Then where are they?” Once again, his voice has softened. He does not yell at her like he did to Leia, does not snap or retort.

“Even if I did know, I would never tell you,” Padmé says.

“Why? Because you’re a rebel?”

She doesn’t confirm or deny that fact, but she does say, “Because I hate you.” It isn’t a lie. She does hate Darth Vader—in fact, he, along with the Emperor, are the only people Padmé has truly hated. They are viler, crueler, and more heartless than the Separatists were. Vader is more brutal than Count Dooku ever was, and more so than Darth Maul, too. He murdered her husband, he helped Palpatine destroy the Republic that she loved so dearly. He has killed thousands of her allies, ripped apart innocent planets in the name of justice. Padmé has just met the man, but she has hated him for years. She has never truly come to grips with that until now, until she finally faced him.

“I’ll die before I tell you anything,” she tells him, her voice firm and certain.

“You are not going to be executed,” he replies calmly. She expected him to retaliate like he did to Leia before; Darth Vader, of all people, reacts calmly when she openly defies him? It was unbelievable. “I will continue this conversation later, but I have matters to attend to,” he tells Padmé.

Vader then turns his gaze upon the Stormtroopers. “I want her taken to one of the empty quarters on my floor,” he instructs them. Padmé furrows her brow in confusion. What?

“Not to a cell, sir?” questions one of the Stormtroopers.

“No,” he replies.

The commander that Vader was talking to earlier has been silent for a long time, so silent that Padmé didn’t really notice him. But now he pipes up, “She isn’t going to be… interrogated?”

At least Padmé isn’t the only one who is confused. It seems that her situation is different from other prisoners, and she thinks she knows why. There is a chance that Darth Vader could know about her relationship with Anakin. If they were Palpatine’s apprentices together, Anakin may have shared that information, or perhaps it slipped out somehow… Otherwise, she can’t think of another reason why Vader wouldn’t send her to a cell. But still, that didn’t explain why he doesn’t plan on interrogating her. Not that she is disappointed, especially since interrogation implies torture, she certainly finds it odd.

“I don’t want her harmed,” Darth Vader explains. “Next time you question my authority, I will not be so forgiving,” he threatens his men. “Now, do as I say.”

And they do; the Stormtroopers lead her away. Before Padmé disappears behind the exit, she casts one more curious glance at Darth Vader.

His heart stopped the moment he laid eyes on her. Padmé is alive—it was really her, after all these years. He doesn’t know how it is possible, but she was standing right in front of him only moments ago. Darth Vader has hardly felt anything but rage, hatred, and contempt for nearly twenty years. He has been hardened by his own brutality; he has allowed darkness to overgrow within him to the point that it has taken him over, completely corrupted every fiber of his being, right down to his soul.

But there’s something that blooms in that darkness now. He can feel it, an undeniable warmth in an ice-cold wasteland. It’s her—it’s Padmé.

Darth Vader didn’t know what to do. He had frozen when he first saw her; at first, he wasn’t sure if Padmé knew who he is, but it was confirmed to him that she didn’t once she called him vile. She regarded him as a complete stranger, as a monster.

He didn’t mind it when other rebels called him such names, but from Padmé, that was a low blow.

Vader is beyond shocked and dumbfounded that Padmé had spoken to him that way. But surely, if she knew that he was once Anakin Skywalker, she wouldn’t despise him so deeply. There is a part of him that enjoys her hatred, that relishes seeing anger on her—just not directed at him.

There is no doubt that Obi-Wan and the rebels have poisoned her mind. She must have been lied to, twisted into believing that he is something he’s not. She must have been lied to about what happened to Anakin, too, otherwise, she would have known who he is.

But he did notice something else during their conversation. Padmé was still wearing the japor snippet necklace he made for her when he was just a boy, indicating that she hasn’t quite let go of Anakin. If he approached her, revealed his true identity…

And then what? He ponders. The last time he saw Padmé… he doesn’t even want to think about that. He remembers all to well, the fires of Mustafar, Padmé’s pleas, her eyes watering with tears. Vader had believed that he killed her that day, but he was wrong. That fact changes everything—nineteen years of heavy guilt suddenly felt almost light as a feather, and most importantly, that the Emperor lied to him. Or perhaps he did truly believe that Padmé was dead… but even then, he still would have lied about him killing her in his anger. It simply does not add up to him, and it makes his blood boil with rage.

Vader turns and begins to walk down the main passageway, and his commander follows him. “My lord,” he says. “Holding the princess is dangerous. What if this gets out? It could generate sympathy for the Rebellion in the Senate.”

“I have traced the rebel spies to her,” Vader explains as they continue to walk. “Now she is my strongest link to finding their secret base.”

“She won’t tell you anything,” argues the commander. “You’ll just have to kill her.”

For once, he is unsure about executing this particular rebel. During his conversation with Padmé and the Princess of Alderaan, he could sense a deep connection between the two of them. Padmé would likely be livid with him if he killed Leia Organa.

After nineteen years, he still cares for his first and only love. If he took away someone she loves, not only would it pain her, but it would also have consequences for him. He doesn’t want to lose Padmé again, which means that he will have to convince her to join him… it would be quite the difficult task, knowing her, if he killed one of her cherished friends.

He has wanted to kill that insolent girl for years; she has been a thorn in his side for too far long. Princess Leia deserves to die for everything she has done to defy the Empire, but Padmé would not see it that way.

“Just leave it to me, commander,” orders Vader. “Send a distress signal, and then inform the Senate that all aboard were killed.”

The two of them are then stopped by another Imperial. “Lord Vader,” the man greets him. “The battle station’s plans are not aboard this ship, and no transmissions were made. An escape pod was jettisoned during the fighting, but no life forms were aboard.”

Droids, Vader thinks. Padmé and the princess are quite clever.

“They must have hidden the plans in the escape pod,” suggests Vader. He turns to the commander and orders, “Send a detachment down to retrieve them. See to it personally, Commander. There will be no one to stop us this time.”

“Yes, sir,” replies the commander. The other officer leaves, and they continue to walk. Vader expects the commander to stop following him, but he continues to linger. “My lord, I am curious.”

“Yes, Commander?” Vader decides to tolerate his inquiries, though his patience is beginning to run thin.

“What of the woman?” he pries. “The other rebel?”

“I will find out more about her,” replies Vader. He is careful with his words, not wanting to reveal his true relation to Padmé or his intentions with her. “I knew her in the days of the Old Republic. Interrogation methods won’t suffice for her… I have a different approach. I trust that you believe I am capable of doing what is necessary.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Leia paces anxiously in her cell. She already knows that she is being taken to the Death Star; her fate is practically sealed at this point. But Padmé… what is going happen to her? She wasn’t sent with Leia to the prison, and she hasn’t heard anyone walk through these hallways since she got here.

Maybe Padmé is already dead and she just doesn’t know it. Anything would be better than that possibility, but Leia can’t think of another one.

Is Vader torturing her right now? Is he choking the life out of her like he has done to so many others? Every time she tries to think of a different fate for Padmé, death is all she can come up with. It simply doesn’t make sense otherwise why Padmé hasn’t been brought to the prison like Leia.

She takes in a deep breath, but she just can’t steady herself. Not when the woman she has been thinking of as a mother for seven years might be dead.

Suddenly, Leia’s cell door opens, revealing the dark figure of Vader. He walks into her cell, the doors closing behind him as his arms fold across his chest.

She won’t let her fear show through. Not for the fear for herself, and not her fear for Padmé, either. She refuses to give Vader the satisfaction. “No torture device?” Leia remarks boldly. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Vader.”

“No torture device yet, Your Highness,” he replies coolly. “I am not here to discuss the location of the rebel base.”

“Then what are you here for?” she inquires, genuinely curious. Leia can’t think of any other reason that would bring Vader to her cell.

“What is your relationship to Padmé Amidala?” he asks her. “And answer me honestly, or I will return with a torture device. Or, better yet, I could save time and choke you until you tell me.”

Leia scowls at him, anger surging within her in a great wave of fire. “There’s nothing you can do to me that would make me betray Padmé.”

“That almost answers my question,” Vader gloats. “So, you care for her. Very deeply, I can sense, and now you’ve just confirmed it verbally. Now, describe to me, your exact relationship to her.”

She narrows her eyes. So, Padmé isn’t dead after all—relief washes over her, but it is short lived. She isn’t dead, but what does Vader want with her? What interest could he possibly have in her relationship to Padmé?

“Why do you care?” she tries to deflect the question rather than answer it.

“That is of no concern to you,” is all he says in response. “I am growing impatient, Your Highness.” He uses her royal title so sarcastically, so sourly, as if it is a cruel joke.

Leia says nothing. She has a bad feeling about this; anything she tells him could be used against her or Padmé, and the last thing she wants to do is put Padmé’s life in jeopardy, more than it already is.

So screw Vader, she decides. He won’t be getting anything out of her—not about Padmé, and not about the rebel base.

“Silence, then?” he growls. “Perhaps I could bring Padmé and the torture device into your cell, and demonstrate how exactly I’m going to torture you once we reach the Death Star.”

She shakes her head. Vader is already using her connection to Padmé against her, but she doesn’t take his words lightly. Darth Vader is not at all shy to violence, and Leia has no doubt that he may very well do exactly what he suggests he may do.

Vader can hurt Leia all he wants, but if he hurt Padmé…

“I—” she begins, but then her voice breaks off. Leia is uncertain of what to do. If all Vader wants is information about she and Padmé’s relationship, would it truly hurt the Rebel Alliance? If she gave in, would she be helping Padmé, or hurting her?

“You don’t need to hurt her,” Leia says. “Padmé is an innocent in all of this.”

“Explain,” he commands.

Leia slowly begins to formulate a plan in her mind, a plan that both gives Vader what he wants and could also help protect Padmé at the same time.

“She isn’t a rebel,” Leia lies. “Padmé was only with me on the mission because she’s… almost my step-mother, in a way.”

“Your step-mother?” he repeats. Vader’s tone is flatter than usual, but Leia cannot tell if it is simply lack of emotion or irritation. She can never read Vader, not with his mask covering his face.

“She took care of me after my mother died, and she and my father are together,” Leia explains.

Vader goes silent, but Leia sees his gloved hands curl into fists. After a few moments, he relaxes them, but she has a feeling that what she said did not go over well with him. She just hopes he doesn’t decide to hurt Padmé, as he had threatened before.

Tension continues to rise within Leia as the Sith Lord remains silent for several more moments. The sound of his mechanical breathing only makes Leia more conscious of how much time is passing. But rather than allow his rage to pool, Leia says, “Please, Darth Vader, Padmé was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Please don’t punish her for something she isn’t responsible for.” Pleading with an Imperial—that was new. But this is Padmé she is pleading for, not for her own life. She would never stoop that low for herself, but there is little she wouldn’t do for her mother figure.

She expects him to retort with some inflammatory remark, but instead, he is rather short with her. “You have provided me with sufficient information. That will be all.”

And with that, he just leaves. Leia sits alone in her cell, brows furrowed in confusion as she contemplates what exactly just happened.

[rubybluewrites-blog]

( rubybluewrites )

Alderaan is nothing like Naboo, but it is certainly just as beautiful. Padmé Amidala watches the snow gently fall from the overcast sky from her bedroom window. Bail is still asleep, but she has been awake for a few minutes now. As leaders of the Rebel Alliance, they have a great deal of work to do today.

But for now, Padmé stands with her arms folded across her chest, contemplating as she stares blankly out the tall window that looks into the courtyard. She is dressed in an elegant, silken lavender nightgown that pools down to the floor, and her dark hair falls in loose ringlets down her back. For more nights than she can count, she has shared a bed with Bail Organa, who was once her good friend, but now her lover. Other than Anakin, he was the only man she had ever felt safe and comfortable with. And if it were any other day but today, Padmé would have woken up feeling elated, but instead, her spirit feels crushed, just like it does every time this specific anniversary comes around: the day she and Anakin were married. It would have been their twenty-second.

Instead, he is dead, and Padmé is with Bail. Not that she resents her relationship with the King of Alderaan, and it is not that she doesn’t love Bail. In her mind, she knows that she would be wasting her life away if she spent the rest of it alone and mourning him. But in her heart, Padmé knows that Anakin was her soulmate. It didn’t matter how much she loved Bail; nothing would ever change that. So rather, she will spend her life with Bail and mourn him.

She would have cried if she were alone, but she doesn’t want to wake Bail. If she did, she would have to explain, and… she didn’t want him to think that he wasn’t enough for her. So instead, she swallows her tears, and plays with the japor snippet that hangs around her neck, the one Anakin gave her when he was a boy.

The pain of losing him is still intense for her. To Padmé, only seven standard years have passed since the last time she saw Anakin alive, even though in reality, it has been nineteen long years. In order to save her from dying in childbirth, she was frozen in carbonite for twelve years. Slowly, she was rejuvenated enough to be awakened, and when she finally did rise from her slumber, she was thrown into a world without the love of her life. It was Bail Organa and Obi-Wan Kenobi who greeted her in her hospital room and explained that Anakin had been killed by a fellow Sith Lord named Darth Vader, another one of Palpatine’s apprentices.

Seven years have passed since Padmé’s awakening; biologically, and mentally, she is only thirty-four years old, since she did not age a single day while in her carbonite chamber. She should be forty-six, or dead at twenty-seven. (Padmé is just glad that it wasn’t the latter.) And although Padmé has been awake for a long time now, the galaxy is still strange to her. Seeing Bail so much older, forty-eight years old now, seeing his hair slowly gray while hers stays the same chestnut brown. The same goes for everyone that Padmé knew before the Empire’s insurrection. Time has gone by too quickly; losing twelve years can take a toll on a person. Part of her doesn’t believe that nineteen years have gone by; she would like to believe that it would take less time to overthrow the Empire.

Her greatest regret is that she was not able to raise her children. When she met Leia, she was already twelve years old, and had an established mother figure, Breha Organa, Bail’s former wife and the Queen of Alderaan. However, by the time Padmé awakened, Breha was dead, killed by Imperials when Leia was eight. If anything, Padmé was not a true mother figure to Leia, but a replacement for Breha. But at least she was accepted by Leia into her life; that was the most important thing to Padmé.

Luke, on the other hand, she was never allowed to see. The only reason Padmé could see Leia was because she chose to join the Rebel Alliance. Obi-Wan convinced her that she must keep her distance from Luke; it was already dangerous enough that she would be a part of Leia’s life.

“If Darth Vader ever found you, or your children, he would hunt you, Luke, and Leia to the ends of galaxy.”

“Why?” Padmé had asked.

“He would sense the power within your children,” Obi-Wan explained. “And if he knew that you were their mother, I’m sure he would use you to draw Luke and Leia into a trap.”

Darth Vader was the reason that Padmé lost her husband once and for all. It was bad enough that Anakin turned to the Dark Side before he died, but it was even worse that his betrayal is what got him killed. Vader was Palpatine’s other apprentice, and now, his only one. She had no doubt that Obi-Wan was telling the truth; from what she knows, Darth Vader is a ruthless man with no regard for any life other than his own whatsoever.

She had no doubt that Owen and Beru Lars were taking good care of Luke, and that Obi-Wan was protecting him, but still, she has always wanted to meet her son. She can imagine him now, blue-eyed like Anakin, light hair kissed by the sun, staring out into the Tatooine sunset like his father had once done…

The soft caress of Bail’s hands on Padmé’s hips shatters her thoughts and pulls her back into reality. He presses into her, embracing her from behind. Padmé returns the gesture and smiles as Bail plants a kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice low and scratchy from his drowsiness. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not for very long,” Padmé replies. “I was just admiring the Alderaanian mountains.” She looks out into the window, where the mountain range, covered with snow and tinted blue by the clouds, can be seen in the distance.

“Someday,” Bail says softly, “Alderaan will be yours, just as it is mine.” He implies marriage with what he says—an idea Padmé wouldn’t normally be opposed to, but today, on her twenty-second wedding anniversary with Anakin, it is difficult to think about marrying another man.

“And when will that be?” she inquires.

“When we defeat the Empire,” he replies. “When it’s finally safe for you to show yourself to the public.”

“If the Emperor and his lackey knew I was alive…” Padmé trails off, her mind distant.

“But they never will,” Bail finishes her sentence for her. “They’ll be gone by the time we’re married, and you’re the Queen of Alderaan.”

It was a nice thought—married to Bail, the Empire gone from the galaxy. The memory of Anakin still tugs at her mind, but Padmé entertains Bail’s ideas nevertheless. “And we’d be politicians again. Politicians of the Galactic Republic.”

“Leia would still be Senator of Alderaan, and you’d be the Chancellor,” Bail muses. “I would work with Leia, but spend most of my time ruling Alderaan.”

“The Chancellor?” Padmé laughs softly. “Like Palpatine?”

“You’d be an amazing Chancellor. I can’t imagine anyone better to fill the position.”

“You’re too sweet,” she says with a warm smile. Padmé turns around and kisses Bail gently on the lips. It is nothing like kissing Anakin. Bail is soft and gentle, while Anakin was much more passionate and intense, and sometimes rather rough and demanding.

He is still embracing her when he pulls his lips away. “While I would love to stay like this, I believe we should head down to the meeting room.”

“You’re right,” Padmé sighs. She isn’t sure if she is relieved or disappointed that they have to leave. “We wouldn’t want to keep Leia for too long.”

Bail steps away from her and smiles. “Yes, she can be quite impatient sometimes.”

She reminds me of Anakin, Padmé thinks, but she doesn’t say it aloud. Though Bail knows Leia is Anakin and Padmé’s daughter, neither of them voice that very often. Not only is it an explosive secret, but also, there is no need to discuss it. Anakin has been dead for nineteen years, while Bail has been Leia’s father figure all this time.

Padmé and Bail are now dressed and walking down the corridor to the meeting room. Bail wears his usual clothing, a gray-blue suit with a silver belt and a dark navy cape. He always wears simple, but regal clothes, and keeps his dark hair very neat and carefully brushed. Padmé’s clothing is much more extravagant; she wears a long sapphire-blue dress with elegant gold designs along the sides of the skirt and covering the sleeves to her wrists. The japor snippet still hangs around her neck, as it always does; and her hair is still long and flowing in loose ringlets down her back. She didn’t have time to have her hair done as she normally would for an event, but this is just a simple meeting with her daughter and a few other distinguished rebels.

The doors to the meeting room slide open, revealing Leia, Mon Mothma, and Admiral Ackbar. Leia looks so much like Padmé, but she has her father’s spirit. She her mother’s eyes and her mother’s hair, but she has his fire and his raw power in the Force. However, like her mother, Leia is already a skilled politician and excels in diplomacy.

She has grown so beautiful and strong; it fills Padmé with pride to see her meeting with rebel leaders as not just a member, but a leader herself. She is more than a beautiful princess; she is a warrior, a soldier, and a general.

Her hair is done up in her signature buns on either side of her head, and her lips are stained rose with lipstick. Leia’s dress is long and white, with a silver belt to accentuate her waist. She smiles at Padmé and Bail when she sees them and stands from her seat on one of the white sofas. Mon Mothma and Ackbar mirror her.

“Welcome,” says Mon. Once Padmé and Bail take their seats across from them, the three of the other rebel leaders sit down, too.

“So,” Bail begins, turning his gaze to Leia. “Are you going to explain why you called this meeting?”

Leia nods confidently. “Yes,” she replies. “I wanted to discuss if it was possible for me to lead the mission to Tatooine.”

Padmé raises her eyebrows. Immediately, her motherly instincts kick in. “It would be… very dangerous,” she says. “I know you’re capable, but I worry.”

Her daughter smiles at her warmly. It doesn’t comfort Padmé like it normally would; to think of her daughter being so close to harm’s way made her more anxious than she could describe in words. If Leia was discovered… she doesn’t even want to think about it. The thought of her falling into Darth Vader’s hands twists knots into Padmé’s stomach, knowing what would happen to her if she found herself in an Imperial prison.

“I believe General Leia has proven herself to be very proficient in leading missions,” Admiral Ackbar chimes in. “I have no doubt in her abilities; she’s never let us down before.”

Leia smiles at him. “Thank you, Admiral Ackbar.”

“I agree,” Mon Mothma says. “Leia can be trusted to lead the mission to retrieve Master Kenobi.”

“I’m hesitant to allow my daughter to go on such a dangerous mission… with the tensions with the Empire running this high, there is a chance they will intercept her,” Bail considers. “If Padmé agrees, then I approve.”

Leia looks at her mother expectantly, and Padmé knows that she cannot deny Leia the opportunity to lead such an important mission. But then she weighs in something else, something that would make her feel much more secure in sending Leia to the Outer Rim.

“I will sign off on it, if—” Padmé begins. She glances at Leia to see that anxiety has flickered over her face at Padmé’s words. “If I may accompany her. Kenobi is an old friend of mine, and I know the area he lives in fairly well.”

And maybe, she thinks to herself, just maybe, I could see Luke just once. She has never laid eyes on her son before, and it kills her. It hurts her down to her core and twists her heart into a mangled mess.

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Bail. He casts a worried look at Padmé, fearing the worst for both his daughter and for the woman he loves.

“I have no doubt that you can handle yourself,” he tells her. “But please be careful, Leia, Padmé.” Bail looks from his daughter to Padmé and then back again. “And come back in one piece, both of you—that’s an order.” He smiles weakly; Padmé can see that he doesn’t truly approve of putting not just one, but both of the most important people in his life in danger. But this is what they signed up for when they became rebels, and Bail knows this as well as Padmé does.

“So, it’s settled, then?” Leia asks hopefully.

Bail nods. “Yes. I agree. Padmé and Leia will embark on the mission to Tatooine together.”

In a few weeks’ time, Padmé and Leia find themselves on the Tantive IV. It is a small corvette ship that is attached to a larger cruiser. They are accompanied by several other ships, ordered by Bail to ensure their safety. There could not be a more perilous time to venture so far out into space, and especially to a planet controlled by no faction. The Empire was dead set on closing in on the Rebel Alliance, and Padmé just hopes that the entire fleet will be able to make it to Tatooine. The best-case scenario would be that Padmé would see her son and return safely home to Alderaan with Obi-Wan. And the worst-case scenario…

Well, she didn’t really want to consider that.

Padmé and Leia are standing on the bridge of the Tantive IV, staring out into space. Leia is wearing her white dress with the silver belt again, and her hair is in those double buns. Padmé also wears simple clothing; a form-fitting white bodysuit with beige boots and a beige belt and cape to match, similar to the outfit she wore on Geonosis many years ago. She often draws inspiration from her older outfits, from a different era of the galaxy. Her outfit from Geonosis, and her hair from Mustafar—she wears it in the same long braid with the two thick braided buns at the base of her head. Padmé’s makeup is minimal, since there’s a chance she might have to be in combat today, but she does wear lip gloss, mascara, and neutral brown eyeshadow colors on her lids.

“Do you think—” Leia begins, but then several Imperial Star Destroyers jump out of light space right beside the fleet of rebels.

“Mother of moons,” says Padmé under her breath. She turns to Leia, her eyes wide and frantic.

“Padmé…” Suddenly, Leia becomes very tense. Her hands clench into fists at her side, and her brows furrow. Padmé isn’t sure if it’s anger or fear on her face, or both. “That’s Vader’s Star Destroyer. The Devastator.”

“Oh,” replies Padmé. She draws in a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but the panic has already set in. She doesn’t let if show, but if she was less composed and less brave, perhaps she would be running off to an escape pod by now. Padmé would never leave the rest of the crew on the ship behind, and there is still hope to reach Tatooine. They weren’t very far off now, and if the Empire was just a few hours later, they would have made it.

Her heart is beating a million miles an hour, but her voice remains calm although the rest of her is not. “We have to detach from the cruiser,” she says. “The rest of the fleet could distract the Star Destroyers while we slip away to Tatooine.”

“Fuck,” Leia curses. “I hate it,” she continues. “But I know you’re right.”

If they weren’t in such a dangerous situation, Padmé might have said, “You don’t hate anything, Leia.” But it isn’t the time for her motherly worries. It is the time for action.

Padmé looks out the windshield of the ship again, to see that the Star Destroyers have released a swarm of tide-fighters into space. They fire on the cruiser that the Tantive IV is attached to, and the ship trembles slightly beneath their feet.

“Tell the captain to flee,” Padmé instructs a nearby commander. “Now!” He follows her orders, running towards the captain’s station.

“Padmé,” Leia turns to her mother, urgency in her eyes. “If we’re captured…”

“Don’t talk like that,” she almost snaps in response. “We’re not going to be captured. We can’t—we—”

“But you know it’s possible,” says Leia.

“I know,” Padmé replies with a nod. Her voice is full of certainty, but fear creeps into her voice and sends a tremor through her words. She is more afraid for Leia than for herself; she wouldn’t know what to do if her daughter fell into the hands of the Empire.

A soldier rushes up to Leia and Padmé, breaking into their conversation. “General Organa, General Amidala,” he says, heaving from running. “The cruiser has been boarded by Imperials. Darth… Darth Vader is with them.” His face pales at the Sith Lord’s name, and Padmé hopes that this poor man won’t end up among the dead.

“Vader personally boarded the ship?” Padmé says in disbelief. “I thought that was normally just left up to his lackeys.”

“Not this time, General Amidala,” the soldier says. “He seems very adamant about ensuring that our mission fails.”

Just as the soldier finishes his sentence, the Tantive IV detaches from the large cruiser and blasts into space. Once the ship maneuvers away from the onslaught of tie-fighters, it jumps into lightspeed, leaving the Imperial forces behind.

For several minutes, it is calm, and the Tantive IV continues as normal to Tatooine. Padmé is displeased about leaving their fellow rebels behind, but she knows that it was for the best. Their mission must succeed. She can’t imagine how they would defeat two Sith without a Jedi Master on their side, at this dire point in the war.

It isn’t long before another messenger approaches Leia and Padmé with a card in his hand, which appears to be an information chip. “One of the men from the cruiser passed this along,” he tells them.

Leia takes it in her hand and gasps. She looks up at Padmé, excitement in her eyes—something she didn’t think she would see after their run in with the Empire.

“What did they send us?” Padmé asks.

“Hope,” Leia replies. “It’s the Death Star plans. I can’t believe they did it—they really got them.” Her lips curl into a smile as her fingers close protectively around the chip.

“I thought retrieving the plans was an impossible mission,” says Padmé.

“Apparently not… this is remarkable. The team that acquired it must have given their lives to obtain this,” Leia tells her mother. “These plans, combined with Kenobi… Padmé, we might really be able to win this war.” She’s beaming now, first at the data chip and now at Padmé. Her eyes are lit up with joy and Padmé can’t help but notice how her smile looks so much like her father’s.

She wants to smile, wants to revel in Leia’s enthusiasm with her, but Padmé believes it is too late to celebrate. First, they have to get away from the Empire; there is still a chance they could be caught up to.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Padmé advises.

“I know, I know,” agrees Leia. Her smile vanishes, but it still touches her eyes. She tucks the chip into the pocket of her dress, and she and Padmé begin to review their plan to bring Obi-Wan to Alderaan.

But hours later, once they can see Tatooine from the windshield of the Tantive IV, trouble arises. Padmé, admittedly, was starting to get too hopeful; she should have put those thoughts away, because it’s even more crushing than it normally would be when she sees the three Star Destroyers appear out of light space.

And this time, they have no backup. The only shot they may have is that the Tantive IV is considerably faster than the Star Destroyers, but they would be easily slowed down by their firepower.

“Leia,” Padmé says, urgency clear in her voice.

“I know,” she replies. “The plans.”

“We’re not going to make it,” Padmé tells her daughter seriously. “We could try to get to the escape pods, but…”

“I have a better idea,” her daughter says. “Follow me.”

As tie-fighters and Star Destroyers rain down fire on the fleeing Tantive IV, Padmé and Leia quickly walk from the bridge into the main corridor that goes down the rest of the ship. They would have darted, but people are already panicking, and if they saw their generals running and hiding, it would absolutely crush their mens’ morale. As Leia passes by rebel soldiers, she instructs them to position themselves in the corridor and prepare for a boarding party. Padmé and Leia can both feel the ship shaking under the fire of the Imperial forces, and they know they won’t last long.

After a few minutes of walking, Padmé and Leia arrive in a small room that the main hallway leads to. R2-D2 is standing there, and he greets the two women with a few cheerful beeping noises. Just then, the ship

“Hello, Artoo,” Padmé says. The ship trembles again and Padmé’s stomach twists nervously, but she doesn’t let her fear show through.

“Artoo, we need a favor,” Leia tells the droid, but it is more of an order than a request. She explains the situation to the droid, and asks it to find 3-PO and launch the two droids in an escape pod with the Death Star plans to Tatooine. R2 agrees, and then Leia gives the droid further instructions to find Ben Kenobi and play a message for him.

Padmé stands aside for her to record her message. R2 begins recording, and Leia explains that the Tantive IV has fallen under attack. She mentions that the mission has failed—a truth that Padmé loathes, but a truth that is undeniable at this point. Leia asks Obi-Wan to come to Alderaan and deliver the plans to Bail Organa, and Padmé wonders if she will ever see him again. It is unlikely, considering she will probably become an Imperial prisoner in a few moments.

Leia ends the message with, “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.” Those words twist a knife into Padmé’s chest—her only hope. She prays to whatever is out there, whether it be the Force or some kind of deity, that if not her, then Leia, will come out of this alive. She prays that the Rebellion will not falter, even with their mission failure.

After Leia inserts the plans into R2, the recording ends. “Go, Artoo,” Leia commands the droid. “Find Threepio and the nearest escape pod.”

The droid beeps several times in response, but it is not an aggressive sound as it normally is. It is soft, sympathetic almost.

“I know, Artoo,” says Leia. “We’ll be alright. Just focus on getting the plans to Kenobi.”

Once Artoo glides away, Padmé turns to Leia. “Come on,” she tells her. “Let’s find a better hiding place.”

“Just get your blaster ready,” says Leia, resting her hand on the black blaster strapped to her belt. As her daughter speaks, the ship rumbles, but much more severely this time.

“They’re here,” Padmé comments, more to herself than to Leia.

Another violent rumble indicates that the boarding party must be even closer now; Darth Vader must be on his way. The alarms on the Tantive IV blare, and red lights begin to flash.

Padmé glances at the elegant Nubian blaster on her holster, the same one she used for years. If her blaster failed her, luckily, she kept lockpicks in a hidden pocket inside of her boot. That trick had saved her before when her life was on the line as a senator, and if she is captured, perhaps it would save her again.

Without saying anything more to one another, both Leia and Padmé break into a run down the back hallway. She glances into the main corridor to see that several rebel soldiers are in position, blasters raised and poised to fight. They are all going to die, and Padmé knows it. She and Leia might, too. But that is the sacrifice they all agreed to when they joined the Rebel Alliance; they all knew it could come to this.

Padmé looks again, but immediately regrets it. She can see the door to the ship from a distance, and the sparks flying all around its outline. The boarding party is coming through, and she knows that with a sinking feeling, Darth Vader is with them. She has heard countless horror stories about the Dark Lord of the Sith, how he broke necks with one raise of his hand and severed heads with one sweep of his lightsaber. There is a brutality in him that is beyond words, a darkness that is beyond comprehension.

A loud explosion makes Padmé flinch; the door must have been blown open, allowing the boarding party to come through. This is it, she thinks. This is really it.

She and Leia find a storage room in back hallways and crouch behind its opening. There is no door to the room, but Padmé doesn’t think a simple sliding door would stop the Empire anyway. They look at one another as the sound of blasters can be heard from the main hall. Men begin to yell, and Padmé just hopes that the men dying are the Stormtroopers and not the rebels.

The noises continue for several minutes, and then it goes mostly quiet, except for some remaining blaster sounds, but they have become more distant, meaning that the rebels must be retreating.

Leia reaches out and holds Padmé’s hand for comfort. Her breathing has become slightly heavier; she is likely trying to control her fear. “It’s okay, Leia,” her mother tries to comfort her, but even she is not completely calm. Her heartbeat has accelerated and her hand has become sweaty around her blaster; her nerves are slowly getting to her. It is difficult to be fearless when your life is hanging on such a fragile thread.

They hear footsteps coming near them, and both the women go utterly silent. Padmé and Leia exchange a glance, knowing they will have to fight. They nod at one another and rise from their crouched positions. Leia pokes her head out slightly to see the Stormtroopers searching the back hall, and Padmé follows.

They are quickly spotted by one of the troopers. “There’s two! Set for stun!” he commands.

Set for stun—Darth Vader must want them alive to be interrogated. Padmé isn’t sure if she’d rather die a mostly painless death right here, right now, or endure the agony Imperial interrogation with a slim chance to escape. A very, very slim chance indeed.

Her daughter raises her weapon and fires; Padmé does the same. Together, they take down two troopers, but more four still remain. The two of them begin to run, but one of the Stormtroopers fire at Leia, and she falls to the floor. Padmé stops dead in her tracks and grabs her daughter with one arm and fires at the trooper who shot her with the other. He goes down, but then so does Padmé—another one is able to stun her, and she finds herself on the floor like Leia. Still awake, but unable to move. It is the most powerless feeling in the world, knowing that her daughter is stunned on the ground and there is nothing she can do prevent them Stormtroopers from picking them up and dragging them out of the back hallway.

“Inform Lord Vader we have prisoners,” says one of the Stormtroopers to one of his comrades. “And bring us more men. I have a feeling these two might be difficult to handle.”

They place handcuffs around their wrists, rendering them even more powerless than they already were. We’re really in for it, now, Padmé thinks to herself. If she could, she would run her thumb over her japor snippet; it is a nervous habit of hers, and the memory of her late husband is always comforting. But the Empire doesn’t allow comfort—something Padmé will have to get used to.

Slowly, as the Stormtrooper guides Padmé into the main hall, her senses begin to return. More Stormtroopers join them, and soon enough, Leia and Padmé are being marched down the corridor. Now that they are able to move, Leia and Padmé exchange a nervous glance. Padmé is absolutely stricken with terror down to her very core, but she refuses to allow that emotion to cross her face. Especially not in front of Darth Vader, the man who killed her husband.

“Where are you taking us?” Padmé asks the Stormtroopers.

One of them replies, “To Lord Vader.”

chapter i. the mission