Chapter Text
Padmé looked down at R2, and up to the far too long directory. They were in the subterranean parts of the Senate Building, frequented by service staff, and not at all well-maintained. R2 shifted to move away from some mysterious drips from the ceiling.
“Do you see it? I’m still on the first list,” she asked, to which R2 responded with an almost oblong beep. That didn’t sound like anything much. “There it is, droid mechanics, down three more levels.”
She continued down more elevators, R2 trudging behind her and occasionally stopping to take out one of his tools. The maintenance facilities definitely weren’t on new Senator tour, but she was determined to learn it all. Finally, she reached a small door labeled Droid Services and knocked. No one answered, and she pushed the door open. The room was huge, offering a view of a hangar past pallets of droids. A clone trooper at the desk by the door jerked awake.
“Main elevators are a fifteen minute walk left, or service elevators five minutes right,” he sighed.
“Thank you, but I’m not lost, I’d actually like to get a droid serviced.”
“Ah,” the trooper chuckled. “Yes, we can definitely do that here. I assume that’s the droid in question?”
“Yes, my astromech. He’s been a little off since I arrived last week, I think he needs a check up? I know he’s a little old, but I’m quite partial to him.” She placed her hand on R2 and he buzzed sadly.
“Coruscant’s an overwhelming place, even for droids. We can take a look. Does he normally stay with you? We’ll check him for sabotage as well. Which Senator’s office are you with, and will you be the point of contact for the repairs going forward?” The trooper pulled out a holopad to take down the information.
“He’s in my office, I’m Senator Amidala. I just started and I don’t have much on my plate yet, you could put me down.”
“Well, welcome to Coruscant, Senator Amidala. Last time I had a Senator down here they were yelling at me, so it’s nice to speak to you bigwigs in calmer circumstances. I’ll put him at the top of the list and I’m sure we’ll get him looked at soon.”
“Great! Thank you so much.”
Except at that moment, she heard a loud thud behind her. Not at all quiet and calm like the knock she had produced a moment ago. The trooper shot up, and a second, louder, bang sounded from the door.
“Senator, I need you and the astromech behind me.”
Padmé went around and crouched behind the desk. She felt for her blaster, still safely secured to her thigh, as the trooper pulled up some camera feeds.
“Oh.”
“What is it?” Padmé whispered.
The trooper pulled out his commlink. “This is CT-8795, Droid Services Sub Level Four. We’ve got-”
And with that, the door exploded, the force of it knocking Padmé into a filing cabinet.
Rebel Attack on Senate!
Senator Injured, Four Dead, Rebel Cell Discovered on Coruscant
Right Moment Right Time - Lord Vader Makes Daring Rescue of Junior Senator
Her second week in the Senate was spent at the medcenter.
Droids hovered around her constantly. Her injuries were minor - a broken arm, a sprained ankle, and a few scrapes, and she suspected she was being kept at the medcenter longer than necessary to build animosity toward the rebels. She read at least one article on the holonet questioning if the young and beautiful Senator from Naboo would need to take a few months off for facial reconstruction. No, she definitely did not.
She had her handmaidens bring her her datapads and brief her daily, and other Senators began to shower her with gifts as the particularly speculative articles were released. She enquired if the clone trooper from the droid services center had survived, and he thankfully did, and she redirected the better gifts to him.
Until the next day, when no gifts but four of her handmaidens arrived.
“There’s a new series of articles out,” Rabé spoke first, looking flustered. Padmé smiled at the nervous handmaidens, surely overwhelmed by their first two eventful weeks.
“I’ll read them before my other tasks.” That didn’t seem to appease them. The handmaidens still gathered around her, looking at each other.
“It’s more that they’re not articles, but photos.”
Padmé’s brow creased. “From the attack?”
“From Lord Vader saving you during the attack.”
“And I’m very grateful for that. What else?”
“The photos have been interpreted in… a romantic light by the tabloids.”
“Rabé, if I cared about the tabloids, we wouldn’t be here.”
“And the stories have been picked up by larger media. Here, look at them.” Sabé passed her a datapad. She blushed at the sight of them. Vader carrying her out of the mess of the Droid Services room, another action shot, except where he took extra care to support her head, and two more photos of him carefully arranging her on a stretcher and providing a cover for her tattered Senate gowns. She definitely saw what the media wanted everyone else to see.
“That’s not all. The Emperor requests an audience with you,” Dormé said.
“Requests?” an unusual olive branch from the Emperor to so graciously request and not take .
Dormé cleared her throat. “He kindly provided some openings in his schedule for today, in three standard hours.”
“He does know I remain in the medcenter?” Padmé would really, really prefer to stall.
“He has been receiving twice daily updates on your condition, and is probably the one slowing down your release,” Dormé responded. “We’ve brought your regalia and supplies. You’ll be transported behind closed doors either way.”
Padmé looked down at her hands. The casted arm, her right, looked dry and bruised. She’d have it in full display for the meeting. “Very well then. Barely my third week and I’m meeting the Emperor.”
She was provided with a hoverchair for her journey. It went a lot slower than it should.
On her fifth day in the Senate, after her tour, Mon Mothma and Bail Organa gave her a bit of an unofficial tour. Where you can see the Jedi used to be. Some scorch marks in hard to reach corners that haven’t yet been covered up from the coup. Who’s an Empire loyalist. How to work around Emperor Palpatine - this one, they admitted she might know more about from her time as Queen and his time as Senator, but they wanted to give her the updated information. And, most importantly, the security systems to watch out for. They didn’t pressure her into the rebellion, worried already then on if the Emperor would pay extra attention to his home planet’s Senator. But, they told her stories, stories of Senators disappearing one day after a contingent of troopers and Lord Vader would arrive in their office. They warned her, very clearly, to stay out of the public eye as best she could. They were powerless to stop a Sith Lord. There are thousands of Senators, they told her, and you don’t want to be on the Emperor’s radar in any way. Getting caught in an attack because she wanted to get her droid serviced was maybe a little silly, but she truly hoped it didn’t mean she’d be under the Emperor’s scrutiny.
They also told her the weak-minded would crumple before the Emperor, that he had powers that rivaled any Jedi. She steeled herself, imagining her mental fortress as she and her handmaidens got closer to the throne room of the palace. They arrived at the heavy doors, and the guard let them in.
She took in the vastness of the throne room, the brightness that filled the space. In her short time on Coruscant as a young queen and now Senator, she had almost exclusively frequented the Senate. She had skipped over the Jedi Temple in her last visit, a shame. Now it was a monument to the failure of democracy.
“Please rise to greet the Emperor.”
Dormé and Sabé went to each of her sides to help her up. The Emperor entered and took his place at the throne. Padmé’s head remained bowed, and she focused on each breath insead of thinking.
“I am glad to see you are healing well,” his booming voice permeated the chamber.
“Thank you, your majesty. With the help of your medical staff, I’ve been making a quick recovery, and many thanks to your excellent security forces for keeping me safe in the circumstances,” she responded, and her handmaidens helped her back into the hoverchair and stepped back.
“Although I wished to see your condition, I’ve brought you here on business,” he croaked.
“I am happy to be of service.” Just as she had been twelve years ago, calling a vote of no confidence that brought upon this mess in the first place.
“I have been trying to advance the new taxation laws. I don’t wish to force these through, as I recognize they can affect all constituents of the Empire, and it is better for the Senate to approve these measures, but certain Senators have been trying their hardest to trade their support for personal favors for their planet, as if that can be accomplished without an updated taxation bill. I’d like your public support on this bill,” he said.
Shockingly, Padmé actually agreed. She had been keeping up with news of the bill and felt the pushback was unnecessary. Even Bail and Mon hadn’t raised any concerns, no whispers of ulterior motives. It was just part of the bureaucracy of running a multiplanetary empire. And based on what she had seen on the Holonet, she had become quite popular over the last few days.
“Of course, I have reviewed the bill and have no negative feedback. I’ll voice my support upon my return to the Senate, which I hope will be in a few days’ time, provided I am checked out of the medcenter.”
The Emperor gave one slow nod of approval.
With that, she heard rolling wheels and several beeps, and she turned to see R2D2, shiny and lively, moving toward her. She smiled at the little droid, then saw the shadow lurking behind him.
“There is one other matter I wish to discuss.”
Her blood ran cold.
“I have decided to place Lord Vader in charge of your personal security, especially as we unravel the mystery of this attack.”
Did her meeting Bail and Mon produce more scrutiny than expected? She did at least have the option to question his decision.
“But why the extra security? I was just caught in the crossfires because of my own curiosity. I’ll be more careful to not go out without my handmaidens, but I don’t see why I would need the additional resources, I’m sure spread thin at times like this.”
“Because I have reason to believe this was an attack on you personally, Senator Amidala,” each syllable grated her ears, “and as you are the Senator from my home planet, I would hate to see you harmed. If Senators of the Galactic Empire are being targeted, that is a cause for concern. If the Senator who attended the same primary school as me is targeted, one who has supported me in my earliest years as Senator and Chancellor, that supersedes nearly all else. We must find those actually responsible. The rebel cell we traced following the attack was an offshoot of zealots, practically mercenaries, a write-off for rebels who lurk much deeper in the shadows.”
Padmé stayed quiet. Lord Vader stepped forward and bowed before the Emperor. He wore similar robes as the Jedi had, just all black, and covered himself further in a hooded cloak. She wondered if he could see her shaking, how pale her handmaidens turned, how she clasped her hand over the cast to keep her hands steady. She saw his gloved hand clench, and slowly unclench, before he proclaimed in a thunderous tone.
“It shall be done, my master.”
In her third week in the Senate, Padmé gained a shadow.
That shadow actually followed its mandate of keeping her safe and investigating the attack. She was worried that the mandate would be overstepped to spy on her activities, but her handmaidens reported that upon the search of her office, the troopers had asked what was confidential to the Senator in order to not disturb it. She was led through installing a new security system for her apartment and office, and she and her handmaidens were given access to it. She had Sabé monitor the situation with the additional troopers stationed. She received a message from Lord Vader, who knew he sent messages, asking her to provide any details about the time preceding the attack, and her schedule going forward to arrange her security. It all felt horribly normal, and like what a legitimate investigation would look like.
She had given her first big speech in the Senate that week, and Lord Vader lurked behind her. The holocams whirled around her pod, and she could visualize the headlines the tabloids were running instead of expressing concern for the state of the Empire. Maybe that was the idea, and even worse, maybe that’s what the citizens of the Empire cared more to see. The last time she appealed to the senate, as a queen, she remembered following the coverage of the blockade of Naboo. The Holonet played a five minute piece on the Jedi who had been killed, the losses her people had suffered, the bravery of those involved to take matters into their own hands, then a fifteen minute piece on the fashion history of Naboo.
Her routine was simple, following the attack. Apartment, office, Senate Chambers, lunch at her desk, rehabilitation at the med center, communications with Naboo, back to the apartment. No visits to other Senators’ offices, no lavish galas. She was still hampered by her injuries. The Senate duties were also slowing down. The upcoming Empire Day meant more time assembling the military and meeting Grand Moffs, and thanks to the newness of her posting and everyone still feigning over her schedule, Padmé had three days of no plans, or at least, no work plans.
And of course, her shadow knew she had no plans.
Her doorbell rang. She left behind her freshly rehydrated ration pack to open the door. Without a word, he entered, cape flowing behind him, and glanced around the sitting room.
“What do I owe this meeting to, Lord Vader?”
He turned sharply to her.
“A personal inspection of my troopers’ work. Are you finding the security adequate?” He paced around the room, taking great care in examining her windows.
“Yes, and the troopers have been most kind.”
Lord Vader scoffed. Padmé didn’t know he could show any emotion.
“Is something the matter, Lord Vader?”
“They heard of the gifts you sent CT-8795. Of course they’ll be kind to you.”
“It was the least I could do after such an attack, especially if it was one targeting me. Do the troopers not receive gifts?”
“The clone troopers don’t receive a salary, so no, no one is giving them gifts,” Lord Vader imbued distaste in his words, but Padmé wasn’t sure if it was directed at her, or the state of clone affairs.
“That is quite unfortunate.” Padmé made a mental note to guarantee small gifts for the troopers stationed with her. Vader wandered into her kitchen and stopped at her small table.
“Ration packs, Senator? Is this what our esteemed legislators are eating?”
“When their handmaidens are given a night off, yes.” They really all did deserve it, with the extra work her injuries created.
He sighed. “Most of your rooms leave you exposed to attack. This is the only one without excessive windows, and I would recommend blocking the window and installing a fortified door as a panic room. These Senatorial apartments were built during a peaceful time, and lack rudimentary security features.”
“Thank you, Lord Vader, I will take that all into consideration.”
“The construction will begin in two days.”
Padmé nodded. “Very well then, I’ll make sure to be in my office to not impede that process.”
He exited the kitchen swiftly and silently. Padmé began to follow him, but with her ankle still bothering her, she took a slow path supported by the kitchen cabinets and the wall. She reached the main sitting room, and he already stood at the base of the stairs, impatiently looking back.
“Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’ll catch up.”
He continued to look back at her, making no movement.
“It is your right ankle that is injured?”
“Yes, most of my injuries are on my right side. I wasn’t facing the door head on when the blast hit, so when I was thrown back, I fell on my right side.”
She made it to the base of the stairs. “I’ll trust your judgment up there. I think I’ll stay down here.”
Instead of moving, he held out the crook of his elbow, and she stared dumbfounded, as if she forgot that people offer up their elbows to help another walk. “Today, Senator? I know you have a ration pack and holodrama to return to.”
She blushed and hooked her broken arm through his. “Thank you.” She slowly hobbled up the stairs with his support, and noticed he gave her the extra time she needed.
They reached the upstairs, and he still did not retract his arm. She turned her head and looked up at him, barely seeing the edges of his face, his very human face. “I have my bedroom, another sitting room, and a balcony up here,” she told him. “Plus some dressing rooms and a fresher.” He gave her a curt nod. “Very well then. To the balcony.”
At the balcony, he took a quick look around and made a dissatisfied hmpf . Predictable, with the gorgeous views came points of ingress. They continued on, stopping by the fresher, which he remarked could be a good secondary panic room, before moving onto her bedroom.
“Your windows are a problem.”
She sighed. “They give me the most beautiful view in all of Coruscant.” She really did love the apartment. It was a different kind of home compared to her family’s lakehouse on Naboo, or the palace in Theed, but she had started adding little personal touches, art from Naboo and gifts from her time as queen. He dropped her arm and checked the perimeter of her bedroom. She didn’t know what to do, and hobbled over to her dresser to organize the jewelry on it. He once again checked the integrity of the windows, produced another dissatisfied sound, and moved to exit the room.
Padmé brought her arms up to protect herself from a sudden flash of light. She heard glass break and a mechanical whirl, and the power in the apartment shut off, leaving only the glow of Vader’s lightsaber, which he had taken out in a split second. She took her arms away from her face, and looked back. An assassin droid, sliced in half, laid at his feet.
“Your windows,” he repeated, “are a problem.”
Notes:
okay this got very sweet reception so far, thank you all - I'll post the next two chapters the next two Sundays, and fourth is a tbd because I will have an out of country/super minimal wifi trip, so I'll see what I can do
Chapter 2
Notes:
wow okay so many of you have read and left kudos/comments/subscriptions from even the first chapter, thank you! i've never had such a quick response to anything i've written, so i hope to not disappoint you all. i've got a few shorter chapters before we get into basically only vader/padme chapters.
a few notes, if the lars family didn't recognize C-3PO, padmé won't either, and i googled "broken bones star wars" like 10 million times and couldn't actually get a clear answer, so we're using more real life data. please excuse my random small canon mistakes! i don't have a beta
Chapter Text
“You know, just a few weeks ago, we were talking about the daring rescue of Senator Amidala by Lord Vader. Then, we hear of another attack, this time at Senator Amidala’s apartment, and Jodie, get this?”
“Yeah?”
“Lord Vader saves Senator Amidala again! Because he was already there!”
Padmé groaned and shut off the Holonet. How often could she be in the Holonet? Worse, the tabloid section of the Holonet? As symbolic as her job was, she could barely perform the few functions required with the attention, not to mention the extra security risk of unvetted reporters and all of Coruscant wanting to see her. With Lord Vader’s guidance, she moved into a secluded Senate office, set up a cot in the private chambers, and had her handmaidens fetch her what she needed from her apartment. Her days were uncharacteristically lonely, even more so after the second attack, and she was always accompanied by at least one handmaiden and three troopers, and Lord Vader when she was in public. This wasn’t how she envisioned her life as a Senator.
She got back to her ration pack and a report on Outer Rim crime rings. No time for silly tabloids, except, well, she did have all the time in the universe. She had read that report at least three times by now. She moved on to another that she had only read twice.
Two quick knocks sounded from the door in quick succession: Padmé knew who that was, and her stomach dropped. Lord Vader stood in the doorway, and very quickly, she realized what this would be about.
“The Emperor requests your presence.”
He turned sharply and exited the office. She got up and dusted the crumbs off her dress and adjusted her curls before following him into the hallway.
“Is your ankle still bothering you?”
“Thank you for your concern, Lord Vader. It is healing quite nicely, and at this point, I am only a few weeks away from resuming full activity.”
“And your arm?”
“It will remain in a cast for two months longer. I’m told it was a complex break.”
He took her through the secret tunnels connecting the Senate and the Imperial Palace, and remained quiet for the rest of the walk. They arrived at the throne room doors, and this time, entered right away. The Emperor was already in his throne, and Padmé walked forward and bowed before him. Vader stayed back, closer to the entrance. Must be nice to be so far from the Emperor, Padmé thought.
“Padmé, I must express my concern. You were injured in one attack, and saved by the lucky timing of Lord Vader in another. I have thousands of Senators and several Grand Moffs, and no one is facing such attacks while also being so well liked in the public eye.”
What he said was true, and she herself didn’t know what to make of it. “Thank you for your concern, Your Excellency. I trust your forces will find those responsible.”
Then, he did something unusual: he stood up and paced in front of his throne. She didn’t know what to make of it, and lowered her head.
“I don’t care for popularity contests.”
She glanced up. He had stopped and was looking directly at her, hand on his chin, pondering.
“I am not concerned with how I am seen by the people of this Empire. I care for power. But with the recent media focus on you, and Lord Vader, my Grand Moffs have noted a decrease in everyday rebellious activity, and, to be frank, this has brought down our enforcement costs. And then I considered that this doesn’t have to end here. Padmé, you are to marry Lord Vader.”
… What?
Her body was screaming at her. Her ears rang, her stomach flipped, a nodule formed in her throat and she couldn’t swallow, breathe, think. She urged her neck to move, and she looked back at Vader, who hadn’t reacted. She looked back to the Emperor, hands shaking, vision unclear.
“I beg your pardon?” Amazing she was able to string together those four words.
“Imagine the reactions to an imperial wedding, a honeymoon tour. People won’t stop talking about it. My new propaganda wing will make sure of it. And, if you so much as step out of line, I will lay waste to Naboo. Plus, your assassins surely wouldn’t be so bold as to attack you as Lord Vader’s wife.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Mom, dad, Sola, Darred, Ryoo, Pooja.
And her mental defenses must have dropped, because the Emperor followed that with, “Your family, just like Naboo, can be kept safe with your cooperation. I’ll contact the queen to send a delegation for the wedding. It would be a bad look for the in-laws of Lord Vader to come to harm.”
“No…” She crumpled before him, all resolve gone. This couldn’t be happening.
“No what?”
Visions of Pooja crying, of her parents cornered, of her sister arrested and tortured flashed before her.
“No, don’t invite them, please.”
“Very well then. Choose one of your handmaidens as a liaison for the wedding planning, you don’t seem to be up for it.”
He was being frighteningly casual about a decision that changed the direction of Padmé’s life in thirty seconds. Even if she got away, her whole life would be spent hiding from the Emperor’s most frightening enforcer, and she kept up with the news. That would be a short life indeed.
“I really don’t see why you’re making such a fuss over this. I’ve given you a position of greater power.” He turned back to return to his throne.
“I-I have duties. As a Senator.” And as a former queen, an aunt, a daughter, a friend, duties she would lose.
“Padmé, as you will soon be part of the imperial family, I will be frank with you. The Senate will not exist for much longer. You must have known it was all for show anyway. We will dismiss the Senators and their opulent parties and uselessly high salaries. Even during the Republic, most of them were corrupt scoundrels.”
True it was that corrupt Senators like him left her in this mess. She looked again to Vader, who she noticed, had in fact moved. She could see his chin, under his hood, ever so slightly turned away from the scene of her collapsed in front of the Emperor. He couldn’t even look at her, at the pain this caused her.
“I-I haven’t even seen his face.”
“Padmé, quite frankly, I do not care. You will marry Lord Vader following Empire Day, and we will offer the story of two star-crossed lovers brought together by the danger of the rebellion.”
She did not have much time. She need to stall , and stall now. “I’ll still be healing by then.”
“How better to sell the image of a harmful rebellion than with an injured bride, now safe in the arms of her imperial husband? I am being patient with you, but my decision has been made.”
She sat where she had fallen. Would Lord Vader grab her and force her to go with him? She chewed on her fingernails, a rare nervous tic from her childhood. She stayed for several minutes, and the Emperor left. She decided that an act of personal rebellion now might not bode well for her future, and that she’d be better off complying while she regains her strength from her previous injuries. As if her full strength could even take on a fully incapacitated Lord Vader. She stood and marched to him.
“I have matters to attend to. You will be brought to my palace, and your handmaidens will be informed.”
She was escorted out by a small squad of troopers. She wasn’t being taken to prison in a traditional sense, but it sure did feel like it, especially with the armed guard. When they reached Lord Vader’s palace, and the troopers led her through a public wing to a set of heavy blast doors, and it sunk in that she had no code or access to leave. They opened the doors, bringing her to his private quarters, and shut her inside.
And so this was prison. Bare furnishings, no windows for him to criticise, a kitchen full of cabinets with no food or dinnerware, a couch with no blankets or pillows, a closet with no clothes. It looked not lived in in the slightest.
No clocks too. No sense of time. It had been about midday when she had left for the Emperor’s throne room, and it had been at least an hour since then. She wondered when Vader would return, when she’d be brought food or anything to do. She had brought nothing with her, obviously, and all she could do is sit and think. Or, on second thought, rest. She went over to the couch and curled up around her broken arm. Tomorrow, she’d think about how to fix this. How to make it easier. What her family must think, what the other Senators and the public are saying. She knew from her time as queen how important it was to act swiftly, but for now, she still knew nothing. And so she pushed away the feeling of bile crawling up her throat, soothed the shaking of her hands that hadn’t stopped since she fell in front of the Emperor, and tried her best to sleep.
Minutes, hours later, she woke to the sound of the door unsealing. Sure enough, Lord Vader had returned, carrying a box, followed by troopers carrying two more. She rubbed the tear tracks off her face as they placed the boxes on the dining table, and the troopers left her sealed in with Vader.
“I have informed your handmaidens of your situation.”
She scoffed, and her composure broke. She wasn’t in public, she was in front of her future husband. She could probably afford to be frank. “My situation? You mean our engagement?”
“I sense great fear in you.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Is that truly a shock?”
“I was assigned to protect you. I did just that.”
“And what of this next assignment? Marriage isn’t just a one-and-done job. Besides, I know what your work entails. And maybe, I don’t want to die.” The absurdity of the situation just kept sinking in. Padmé, a one-month resident of Coruscant, marrying a Sith Lord .
“Why would I harm you?”
“You’re Lord Vader. Your reputation precedes you.”
He snorted. “My reputation has saved your life. You’re being purposefully obtuse.”
“And you’re not taking this seriously. I did nothing wrong, yet I’ve been sentenced to … this.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he shocked Padmé further by taking off his hooded cape and setting it on a dining room chair. Padmé’s eyes were locked on the cape, as if looking at Vader’s true face would curse her forever. She still didn’t look at him, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pick up two small containers from the top of one of the boxes, and brought one over to her. “From Dormé.”
He held it out, and she dared look at him. He was young, maybe even younger than her, yellow-red eyed like a Sith. But other than that, he looked normal, and she dared to admit that he was handsome. His dirty blond hair curled around his face, and his face was unblemished except for one thin scar running down his eyebrow and cheek. For a second, when the Emperor told her of this scheme, she imagined an old, shriveling, evil creature. He raised his eyebrows just slightly and stretched the container out further. She finally took it and opened it, and quietly gasped. In whatever mess must be going on past these walls, her handmaidens sent over a loaf of fresh five blossom bread. Vader returned to the table and picked up the other container, and she leaned over the couch to get a quick look at its contents. Simple food, some roasted meat and vegetables, but freshly prepared from the smell of it.
“You have staff here?” She couldn’t picture Vader cooking himself a simple meal.
“I have droids here. I will assign you one to manage your needs. For now, I don’t think you’ll be above organizing the items collected by your handmaidens?”
No, she would welcome any task to distract her away from reality. “I’ll get started right away.”
“You can take any or all of the closets. My wardrobe is more… limited.”
Her handmaidens had packed her essentials and favorite items. They chose her comfortable dresses, she noted thankfully. She assumed she wouldn’t be permitted anywhere until at least after the wedding. Everything looked like it had been turned over multiple times. She folded the items in one of the boxes, ready to be moved into one of the closets, and opened up the other two.
Vader wandered over, picked up one of the necklaces lying at the top of the pile in one of the boxes. She saw it catch in the light, and felt a pang of sorrow when she recognized it.
“This doesn’t appear to be from Naboo.” He took it with both hands now, examining the craftsmanship.
“That’s because it’s not.”
“A gift from another planet’s king?”
“No, a slave boy, actually, from Tatooine.”
“A queen keeps gifts from a slave boy from one of the most despicable corners of the galaxy?”
“He was instrumental in helping me and my companions return to our course when we had to stop there during the blockade of Naboo, and without him, I don’t think we would have freed Naboo.”
“And did you keep up with his whereabouts, with him being so helpful to your cause?”
Padmé looked down. “He remained in the care of the Jedi on Coruscant after I returned to Naboo. I can only assume he was killed, as well as anyone who would know where he could be.”
“A gift from a Jedi Padawan, then.”
She realized what she revealed. “As I said, I don’t know where he is.”
His eyes narrowed. “I sense you are telling the truth.”
He left her alone after that, looking at a datapad in his office, the door to which he surprisingly left open. She continued to unpack her items, and as the minutes passed and she once again became aware of the fact that she had lost all sense of time. She didn’t need a clock to know that at some point, it really would be night, and she hadn’t yet seen any guest quarters in the apartment. She had found a sleeping gown in the boxes - the most modest she owned, her handmaidens once again chose well - and decided her best bet would be to continue sleeping on the couch. He’d have to drag her off of it.
To his credit, he didn’t drag her off of it. He gently shook her awake and said quietly, “I can remain in my quarters on the Executor. You can have the main bedroom here for now.”
For now.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “No, that’s fine, I can stay here. I just would benefit from a pillow and blanket.”
“Right, give me a moment.”
She faded in and out, the stress of the day had drained her beyond belief. She briefly woke up in the most unusual situation - being levitated by the Force as the great Lord Vader placed a pillow and blanket under her, and then another to cover her. She had made it through her first day as his betrothed.
Chapter Text
Her engagement was shockingly uneventful.
True to his word, Vader assigned her a droid, a gold protocol droid he called C-3PO, and he told her he’d arrange for R2-D2 to be collected as well. He spent most of the engagement away from her - something about Empire Day preparations - and she quietly passed the time reading, organizing, thinking. Then breathing exercises. She did struggle to stay calm in the hours she’d spend alone.
One day, a dressmaker came by to prepare her wedding gown and some dresses for Empire Day. The dressmaker fussed nervously around her, but a nervous excitement, as Padmé was sure this was a great opportunity for her. Yet she had no reason to match that excitement, and when the dressmaker asked her her wishes for the style of the dresses and her wedding gown, Padmé replied truthfully: “I do not care. Do whatever will make you the most credits.” And so she ended up with twelve new gowns of the finest, most time-intensive fabrics from around the galaxy.
She was paraded around on Empire Day in a deep red dress. Her handmaidens were permitted to see her for half an hour each day, to report to her on the wedding planning. She didn’t like to ask what the Holonet was saying, what the people were saying, but the one time she did, Sabé lowered her eyes and quietly said, “It’s all they talk about. You’re their little imperial princess.” She still didn’t know what to make of her role in it all, so she stood where instructed, waved when instructed, and produced a forced smile on command. She was coming to terms with this being a long game: no one would dare come to save her from Vader’s palace or from among the imperial military. Padmé almost hoped that some rebels were taking the opportunity of the distraction of her engagement for their own nefarious purposes instead of plotting to save her. But when the end of the engagement came and it was clear that there had been no more attempts on her life or plans to save her, she was disappointed.
The night before the wedding she was moved into a suite in the Emperor’s palace. She had been provided the luxury of her own handmaidens for the day of wedding preparation, and she knew they were in another wing, sleeping under the same roof as her, and that brought her comfort. In the morning, they brought her a traditional Nubian breakfast, and she saw their hands shake while laying it out. Her heart did break for them as well.
They applied rouge to her recently paled cheeks, and got to braiding her hair. She picked up on their nonverbal communication and had an idea of what was coming.
Finally, Dormé whispered in her ear, “We can sew daggers into your dress. We can braid poisonous pins in your hair. We have it all ready.”
“No, Dormé. I cannot rebel.”
“We will gladly take any punishment for your freedom.”
“I will not succeed, and I will not sentence all of Naboo to suffering.”
She dropped one of the pins, and quickly covered it with her foot. “So that is what he is holding over you? Our planet?”
“And my family.” She purposefully hadn’t asked the handmaidens about what her parents had said in response to the news.
“I will instruct my network to watch over them. Do not fear.”
They carefully finished braiding her hair, and knocked on one of the doors to alert the troopers outside that she was ready. A trooper appeared at the door. “All done?”
“Yes,” Padmé told him.
“Handmaidens, please leave the room.” They kneeled before her, a rarer gesture of allegiance and respect, and exited the room.
She didn’t know what to do next. Suddenly, two large doors at the corner of the room opened, and the Emperor entered. She bowed her head before him.
“Rise, my child. You have been performing your duties well, and I am thus far satisfied. I do hope as you take on a more public role, you maintain this level of decorum. As a wedding gift, I will be lax on the punishment of your first public mistake, if one does occur.”
She remembered long ago, when she was just a queen and the Emperor her Senator, he had sent a jewelry set to Sola’s wedding. Far simpler times, she thought sarcastically.
“Thank you, Your Excellency.”
He hadn’t moved to leave, and his smile upturned in a sinister way. She was quickly learning he never seemed to give her just one piece of information, and he definitely led with the lighter news. He didn’t speak for nearly a minute, and Padmé felt the tension in the room claw at her throat.
“Padmé, as Emperor, to show my approval for the wedding, I have decided to show you a great honor. It is I who will walk you down the aisle today.”
“No, no,” and her tears flowed freely, “Anything but this. Please.”
She had kept it together so well up until then.
His clammy hands clasped onto her arm, and she saw visions of Naboo burning, of her loved ones tortured. “Remember what is at stake. Regain your composure. My offer only starts after your wedding is complete.”
So she sniffled away her tears, and they brought Dormé back in to fix her makeup, and set off to the wedding hall. She thought about everything else but her own wedding. The days she would spend in Varykino as a child while she marched down the aisle. The celebration after freeing Naboo as she took her spot next to Vader. Playing with Ryoo and Pooja as she said her wedding vows.
On her wedding day, she was everywhere but there. But she didn’t know what to think when it came time to kiss Vader, so she tried to clear her mind. She finally looked at her now husband, still mostly hidden by his hooded cloak, though this one was much more ceremonial. He softly grasped the side of her face and angled her chin up, and she continued to think nothing-nothing-nothing . Which was a mistake, because when his lips met hers, that left the opportunity for her to think to herself that this didn’t feel bad at all. He wasn’t forceful, nor executing the kiss mechanically for the purpose of completing the wedding. It was a pleasant and soft kiss, perhaps not surprising after a few weeks of practical indifference, and not entirely unwelcome. The kiss came to an end, and her eyes remained locked on what she could see of Vader’s face.
He offered her his elbow, just like he had almost a month ago in her Senate apartment, and they set off down the aisle. She finally became aware of the deafening cheers, the surrounding crowd. As she scanned the hall, she saw nearly every Imperial officer and Senator in attendance, some smirking at her, others whispering to each other, and she once again wanted to be very far away from this place.
They were both brought to a small chamber to change before the wedding festivities continued. One of the dressmaker’s assistants was there to help her, not her handmaidens.
“I assume you won’t be interested in too many dances at the reception,” he spoke earnestly.
“I’d like to say goodbye to some friends, but no, I’m not interested in dancing with every Moff in the galaxy.”
He chortled. “Very well. What good is the injured by the rebels image we’re trying to portray if you dance the night away?”
And so they set off to the reception hall, where he led her through small talk with Moffs and important governors, and she was thankful she just had to smile and say some pleasantries. Everyone seemed to want to make a good impression on Vader, but once in front of him, few wished to talk long.
Finally, toward the back of the room, she spotted Bail. She looked up at Vader, and she embarrassingly thought that now she’s one of those wives that must ask for permission for every move, but he made it easy for her and gave her a quick nod, knowing what she was going to ask. She quickly made her way to him, and the crowd conveniently gave her some extra space.
“My congratulations, Padmé.”
“Bail, I don’t know what to do. This isn’t what I planned for. This isn’t what I want.”
He smiled at her, but she could see worry in his eyes. “It’s all so very Chandrilan of the Emperor.”
“Is that meant to be comforting? Mon hates her husband.”
“And Mon will host you for dinner after you return from your honeymoon and wedding tour. Stay strong, Padmé. We will think of you.”
He hugged her, and she realized she needed to warn him. “Bail, don’t react, but he wants to dissolve the Senate.” She felt him tense up, but he ended the hug and said playfully, “I’ll miss you too, don’t have too much fun on your honeymoon! We’ll be following your tour from the Holonet.”
And then, because she couldn’t catch a break at her own wedding, Moff Gideon swooped in. He coughed and leered at her, and held out his hand. “A dance to mark this momentous occasion, your… What are they calling you nowadays?”
“I’m afraid my wife is still recovering from the first attempt on her life at the hands of the rebels and isn’t up for any dancing.” Vader had seemingly come out of nowhere, but Padmé recognized he never was far in the first place.
“Oh, forgive me Lord Vader. I’m sure you’re just ready for the party to be over, I know I would be,” he laughed and grabbed a drink from a passing server. “To the newlyweds!”
During the ceremony, Padmé had thought of how nothing from Naboo traditions was there. She had made sure of it, but also, she wanted it to feel less real. She did not use her family’s wedding fabric for the dress. None of the food served resembled Nubian cuisine. Her parents did not attend. If that had been skipped over, this couldn’t be her wedding, right?
But Padmé worried about one wedding custom that was shared across most cultures: the wedding night.
She was frozen on the bed.
She had dismissed the handmaidens when they arrived to prepare her. She didn’t want to think about the wedding night, or have them see any part of it. She didn’t want to make it easy for him either, and she decided she might as well leave on the intricate, billowing gown. She faced the clock: hands folded in her lap, head tilted up at it, watching each minute tick away. And the hours did pass, until it was the dead of night, and he finally returned. Drunk.
He shrugged off his cape and left it on the floor, but otherwise stumbled around and avoided looking at her. She couldn’t take it anymore, and so she finally asked, “What did you have?”
“Just the finest bottle of Corellian whisky,” he burped. “Or three.”
The fear slowly dissipated. He was in no state for … anything. He wasn’t a belligerent drunk, just oddly … fearful, for a Sith Lord.
“Well, I may speak freely, since it seems you won’t remember.”
“I remember everything about you, Padmé.”
“I thought you were going to come in here and - well, I won’t speak of it now. Now, it’s kind of funny, because I actually am stuck in this dress because of my broken arm.”
He walked over to her, uncharacteristically stable, and grabbed the casted arm and his saber. Whether he should have that in his state, Padmé assumed no, but he expertly sliced the sides of the cast off. Padmé winced, the arm still raw and sore, but he placed it between his hands and closed his eyes. Warmth flowed through the area, and Padmé felt it strengthen, second by second, until he opened his eyes. Tired, red rimmed eyes.
“There you go. No handmaidens or husband required.”
He had healed her. She wiggled her fingers and flexed her wrist, all movement restored.
It only then sunk in that this wasn’t what he wanted. He had given her space, and he was drunk on their wedding night. He had made no demands of her, and would only occasionally make small talk. In her panic over the sudden forced wedding, she failed to consider the other party’s opinion. The anvil of stress lifted off her chest, and she took her first clear breath in weeks. She was going to get through this. Life under the Empire would never be easy, but maybe, this wasn’t much more different than her time as an always observed Senator. It was tolerable.
He curled up on the bed, asleep and fully clothed. Padmé realized just how young he looked when his face wasn’t set in the angry lines she saw when he was awake. She resolved to at least take off his boots to make him more comfortable. She changed into a nightgown herself, and slept next to him. It was a lot less scary than sleeping on his couch despite the proximity, and she slept peacefully through the night, undisturbed.
When her handmaidens arrived in the morning, stricken with fear, she exited the newlywed chambers. She smiled genuinely at them. “Please don’t worry for me any longer. This is a difficult situation, but I don’t think I’m in imminent danger. We’ll get through this. I’ll get through this.”
They braided her hair once more and prepared her for her honeymoon, and whispered to her. “Saché is taking up a posting in Senator Mon Mothma’s household staff. We will get you information through her, and we will focus on your family’s safety first. We will find a way to help you, milady.”
“Thank you all, truly. I hope to see you all soon.”
They brought her to the Imperial Palace’s landing platform, which held a sleek ship, not too dissimilar to her own. Vader also appeared with a small squad of troopers, directing some cargo onto the ship. Her handmaidens got to loading her luggage as well.
“Ready for the journey?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be. What type of ship is this? It’s very similar to a Nubian yacht.”
“With one key difference, but I’m not sure if you can see it.”
Right, her ship was as pacifist as her homeworld. “Weapons.”
“Of course. Your Nubian ships are quite well designed, especially for passenger comfort, I’ll give you that, but they’re a bit too trusting of the galaxy. We will be trailed by some of my men for additional security and monitoring.”
“Will you be flying the ship alone?”
She saw a peek of a playful smirk from under his cloak. “Not fully alone.”
By her luggage on the landing platform, she saw a familiarly shaped droid, and laughed cheerfully. “R2!”
“He’s got more experience on Nubian style yachts than anyone here anyway. I’ll get him loaded and comfortable, don’t worry.”
He went to check the ship, and she stood alone on the platform. Yet the hairs on her neck tensed. She knew who was behind her, and she turned, head already bowed.
“Satisfactory thus far, Padmé.”
The Emperor was monitoring her every move. She wondered why she seemed to get more attention than the rest of the Empire combined. Then again, delegating this to a Moff was tougher than delegating away the control of a whole planet system.
“I aim to please, Your Excellency.”
He gave her that upturned smile again.
“I commend your arm’s miraculous recovery. And Padmé?” She froze. Of course he noticed.
“Yes, Your Excellency?” She really couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
“I expect an heir within the year.”
Notes:
in my posting from a phone abroad era aghh but also there continue to be so many of you that are reading and have subscribed, left comments & kudos, and I truly appreciate how kind all of you internet strangers have been to what is essentially a little hobby of mine, and I will be back by like mid/late October with exclusively vader/padme chapters (and longer ones too!)
Chapter Text
On the ship, Padmé had one of her weakest thoughts yet. A disgusting solution.
She could try to trade an heir for freedom.
Heir was a convenient word. It conveyed role, not humanity, and if she thought of an heir as an infant, the idea already sounded worse. When she imagined an heir with chubby fingers and cheeks and a laugh like Pooja’s when she was a baby (and maybe curly hair and trusting brown eyes), the trade was unconscionable.
Padmé also wondered what they needed an heir for. It was definitely the commonly accepted next step, but so soon? She had been married for less than a day. It could be for further propaganda, but she doubted that was the Emperor’s primary motivation. The Empire could use a marriage between a well-liked Senator and the Supreme Commander, but a rosy-cheeked baby didn’t fit the image they wished to portray. She also knew of the strength of Vader’s powers. Bail had told her long ago that his Jedi sources confirmed that Lord Vader is one of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy, if not the most powerful, and she figured that would have to apply to his children as well. Why she was chosen for the role, well, she did seem to have an unlucky streak.
Either way, she was failing to negotiate. The Emperor placed more and more demands on her, demands she did nothing to deserve. He was a dictator, and when he got bored of terrorizing the galaxy, he chose her life to dictate next. She was gaining no foothold in this battle, just barreling through hyperspace with her new Sith husband.
Her next order of business was to conduct small talk with said Sith Lord, a Sith Lord who would use a decisively light side power when drunk. While the Emperor had concerned her with talk of an heir, Vader had probably touched her less than ten times since the start of his assassination investigation duties, and she needed to slowly figure out if he too was aware of her most recent assignment. She got up from her bunk and found him in the cockpit, staring off into the streaks of stars and planets, R2 powered down in a corner. His cape was off, and he was leaving it off most times with her. He didn’t even move to acknowledge her, but she knew he sensed her through the Force.
“How’s the journey so far? Any issues with the ship?” she asked.
“I’ve piloted all types of ships. This one’s easy,” he replied, still looking forward.
She took a decisive breath. He was open to talking, but she’d have to learn his limits. She slid into the chair next to him and joined him in gazing out the cockpit window.
“How long till we reach Spira?”
“Three hours.”
“Have you ever been?”
“No. I don’t vacation.” Short answers, but she could work with that.
“So what do you do all day?”
He paused, and cast a furtive glance in her direction. “What do you mean? I’m the Supreme Commander.”
“But your day to day?”
“Seriously, Senator?”
“I’m not a Senator any longer, I’m the wife of the Supreme Commander, and it’d be nice to know what he does all day, so humor me.” She leaned back in the chair, the ghost of a smile on her lips. He folded his arms over his chest.
“Recently, I’ve been making sure no one kills you, which was a much tougher task than anticipated,” he responded almost jokingly, and she knew that the Vader who had healed her and had given her space was not a one-off.
“Two assassination attempts? Should be easy enough for you.”
“Someone did try to send a bomb to your office, actually. I disposed of that. And flowers. I got rid of the flowers too.”
That was news to her. In her first month as Senator, three attempts on her life - someone really did want her killed, and it was beginning to bother her. But she had another goal, so she scoffed jokingly and asked, “Flowers? From who?”
“Is that what concerns you of those two objects?”
“I like flowers.”
“A Senator by the name of Rush Clovis.”
“Rush Clovis?” She laughed out loud. “Did I stop getting my get well gifts because you blocked them?”
“No, I think that was because of the Holonet talking about you and me. Rush Clovis wasn’t dissuaded though.”
“That’s not surprising.” Maybe he’d finally be dissuaded by an imperial wedding, she thought to herself.
“Who is Rush Clovis to you?” he asked tentatively.
“What do you mean? Professionally or romantically?”
“Well, if there is a romantically, it’d be nice to know as your husband,” he responded with the barest hint of animosity.
“No, nothing from my side. We have been through a lot of the youth political development programs together.”
He didn’t respond. She’d just continue to prod.
“So, how old are you?” Padmé asked.
Another sidelong glance.
“I’m twenty two.”
Padmé was taken aback. She could tell he was younger, but she started doing the math on how long he was in the public eye, how old he was when certain events transpired, and how the enforcement of the Emperor’s rule laid in the hands of practically a boy.
“You’re so young to have done so much,” she spoke neutrally, not expressing distaste at what he had done. He lowered his head slightly, hair shifting to cover more of his face.
“You were a queen who stood up to the Republic to save her planet at the age of fourteen.”
“And I was too young,” she replied timidly. Suddenly, she didn’t really want to keep asking questions, and she went quiet. He turned to look at her, finally.
He cleared his throat. “I hear Spira’s a wonderful vacation planet.”
She met his glance. He was trying . The light of hyperspace almost reflected blue in his eyes.
“I look forward to seeing some nature,” she responded quietly.
“Is Coruscant not your type of planet?”
“I liked Naboo. Even Theed, our capital city, was filled with trees. Not to mention the lakes district,” she sighed wistfully. “There isn’t a single body of water one could swim in in Coruscant.”
“We’ve got a villa right on one of the lakes. We’ve booked all the retreats, which is over half the planet, and instituted a temporary blockade on the planet.”
“Seems a bit excessive, no?”
“Safety and all. The troopers will have their own villa. Hopefully it’s as much of a vacation for them as it is for us,” he did seem to approach the trip, well, honeymoon , with a bit of excitement, and he had been positive since their departure from Coruscant.
“And is it a vacation for us?” she asked.
He looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“No side missions, no recording of Holonet tabloid content?” No conceiving of an heir, perhaps?
“Nothing. I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “did request for us to not be disturbed this week.” Maybe. But still very unclear.
“And your Supreme Commander responsibilities?”
“Have been mostly delegated away for the week. I trust the Empire to not descend into chaos in one week.”
Vader fiddled with some controls, though Padmé recognized the ship was already on its course and that was more of a nervous habit than anything. Everything he did around her screamed apprehension. She followed the Holonet reports of his battles, how he’d be called fearless, and she saw that confidence and strength elsewhere, but not with her. He was reserved and timid, not words commonly associated with him. She asked him a few more questions about his visits to different planets, easy questions not about his military campaigns but the suns and landscapes until they arrived to Spira, and Padmé eagerly observed the new world before her.
Blue skies, luscious forests, sparkling bodies of water peppered with little islands. She saw a small city on the horizon, but other than that, she only saw scattered villas, and they were approaching one. They docked, and she eagerly exited the ship to explore further.
The retreat was definitely beautiful, and not unlike her villa in Varykino. It was a two story building set on a hill close to an expansive, turquoise lake, and a terrace and boat dock. The natural tones were a drastic change from the Empire’s red and black accents. Padmé knew they were still close to Coruscant, but with how different the planet felt, she felt as if they could have been in the Outer Rim.
But also, Vader. She hadn’t really seen him before.
She saw him in without his hood in the darkness of his palace and hyperspace, but never in such a bright, natural world. He exited the ship, still without his hood, and she noticed how tan he looked, how tall he was, the way his hair reflected almost blond in the sun. He walked toward her and R2 followed, and she stared. Gawked, even. This was her husband . And in this world, far away from the Empire, he was just that.
Except he continued to be anything but in the days that followed.
The villa contained a training room, which Vader made full use of. He would train to absolute exhaustion each day. So much for a vacation. He rose before her, and she’d spend her days swimming or reading, and return to bed. She didn’t check the Holonet or if anyone had reached out to her, assuming Vader would tell her. Padmé would try to catch him at breakfast, but it was impossible. Finally, a few days in, she made sure to wake up with him and asked him, bleary eyed, “Why do you train all day?”
“I have my weaknesses. It’s a convenient time to fix them.” He stood at the dresser, almost always turned away from her, and inspected his lightsaber.
Well, if that’s what he did all day, she did have one idea. “Could you train me?”
“With all due respect, you have no grasp of the Force.”
“Not to use the Force. Just to protect myself better, seeing as I kept getting targeted by assassins.”
“You have me to protect you. I don’t see why that’s necessary.”
She sighed. “I’m just bored. There’s nothing to do here.”
“Do you have any suitable clothes?”
“I can find something, yes.”
He turned to her, and she became acutely aware of the fact that he was not wearing a shirt as he stretched one over his head, and that his training definitely did have a positive effect. “Then meet me in the training rooms.”
“I’ll start by assessing your abilities.”
The training room, probably once a large storage room, contained organized piles of mutilated training droids, and neatly packaged new droids. Padmé had seen troopers bringing in more throughout the week.
“Well, I’ve been trained mostly to find safe locations. Creative problem solving, one could call it. I have some hand-to-hand combat training, but I prefer not to rely on it and keep my enemies far.”
“You’re good at rallying troops, finding allies,” Vader circled her, as if he was sizing up and she wasn’t a head shorter than him.
“What?”
“The Battle of Naboo. I’ve studied it.” It seemed he really did. It made sense, for someone in his position, but what struck her was that he was frequently paying her complements about her time as queen.
“Oh. Yes, however, I think I’m supposed to leave the rallying troops to you now.”
“Then we can work on your hand-to-hand combat. Attack me first.”
Padmé raised her eyebrows. She had experience fighting, but not a Sith Lord . Suddenly, her little bonding activity idea seemed not well-thought-out. “Attack you? No, I need defense, not offense.”
“So what, I’m supposed to hit you first? You’re barely a month out from an attack that left you with broken bones.”
“But you can heal me if I get hurt.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No - what - no, that makes no sense, I’m not hitting you because I can heal you.”
“Then how is this supposed to work?”
“You’re supposed to hit me first.”
“What exactly has your self defense been thus far?”
“A blaster.”
“Just a blaster?”
“And my handmaidens.”
“Then you can keep your blaster, and I replace the handmaidens, and you’re good to go.”
“I think I need more?”
Vader sighed, then made three target circles float at the end of the room. “Then let me assess your blaster skills.” He summoned a blaster with the Force - Padmé noted he really did use it constantly - and she caught it, and aimed for the first target. He moved it right as she began to pull the trigger, and she reacted, aiming to the new spot and making the shot. He moved the second target, so she started with hitting the third, and tracked the second one until ultimately also making that shot.
“Very good. You can have your blaster back when we return to Coruscant.”
That… was a step forward. “Are you not worried I’ll shoot you with it?”
“I will deflect the shot.”
She smiled. “Of course, Sith powers. Could you float a few more targets with those?”
He returned her smile, and ten targets floated up around him.
On their last day, Padmé had the droids prepare an elaborate breakfast, and requested specialties from Naboo. She made Vader promise to not train at least that morning, and she arranged everything on a patio overlooking the lake. He sat across from her, seemingly enjoying the view of the lake as much as she did.
“I don’t understand why the Emperor sent us for a honeymoon.”
She turned sharply to look at him. He said it with no particular emotion, just a passing reflection with no ulterior motive. What he was really telling her, without knowing it, was that he didn’t know the Emperor’s demand for an heir.
“It’s customary. I presume you don’t often take vacations?”
“Never. This is my first one.”
“And you spent the majority of it sparring with training droids.”
He chuckled. “Time well spent.”
He twisted his hand slightly, and a pastry off her plate floated off her plate. She snatched it out of the air, and the look on his face - well, Padmé didn’t know what to make of it. Hints of pride behind a smirk. Almost peaceful, as if they weren’t leaving in the evening back to the cold, dark Empire.
He cleared his throat. “I know this has been an adjustment for you.”
“It’s not what I expected. But it hasn’t all been bad,” she replied truthfully. With the unspoken truce between them, she had time to plan, to fix this. Surely, at least a few months before more intense questioning about an heir would begin. But she was beginning to question her own goals. What exactly is it that you want to fix?
Padmé returned to the lake for a swim. While Spira was no Naboo, it was a welcome and well chosen distraction from the urban landscape of Coruscant. She swam to a small island not far from shore and back, appreciating the quiet nature. She lazily floated in the middle of the lake, and her eyes drifted closed as she absorbed the sun’s rays. She had almost released all the tension she had picked up over the month of her engagement.
She felt the wind pick up, and a hum, a hum growing louder, and when she opened her eyes, she saw three ships flying above her. For a second she thought the troopers were getting ready to leave, but then she looked closely.
Those weren’t the ships that had traveled with them.
Those weren’t imperial ships at all.
She dipped below the surface of the water and tried to clear her head. This was primarily a vacation planet, but it would be unusual for anyone else to be there, and flying above their villa. The ships were also quite old, she noted, and this was not a cheap vacation spot.
They had to be there for her. Rebels?
Maybe to rescue her!
She returned to the surface and swam vigorously to shore, targeting the little beachside cabana where she had left her towels and clothes. She reached the beach, breaking out into a sprint to the cabana, only for the cabana to explode before her.
Padmé stumbled back, but she hadn’t been close enough to be affected by the blast. She scrambled into some trees for cover. Her arms were shaking, and she needed to clear her mind again. The only safe spot she could think of was in the villa. The training rooms were built much stronger than the rest of the structures near her, and it was most likely Vader was there. He probably had heard the blast? A small fighter zoomed by and fired a blast at the ground between her and the villa. He definitely would have heard that one.
That blast afforded her the mental clarity she was looking for. She hadn’t seen more fighters, meaning she had a short window in which the fighter was returning. She sprinted to the villa, and before she reached it, Vader exited, cloaked and armed with his lightsaber. She reached him, and just as she did, she heard the fighter approaching, and she turned around, eyes wide in fear. She didn’t even have time to think what do I even do before the ship appeared to stop in mid air, and its engines crumpled. She looked to Vader. His hand formed a fist, and she understood it was his doing. Her vision swung to the ship, now falling and crashing into the forest. One man, bringing down a ship with the turn of his hand without breaking a sweat. The strength of the Empire was apparent.
“We’ll fall back to the forest. The villa is an obvious target. My troopers will be here imminently.”
They ran together, facing no more attacks by air and reaching the forest. But Padmé knew that one downed fighter was not the end of their problems. “I saw other ships, clearly not ours. Three of them. They must have landed here somewhere.”
“I know. I can sense them.”
A blaster bolt fired past them, missing them entirely.
“And they’re not far.”
Another blaster bolt zapped through the air, this time right at Padmé. She shut her eyes, preparing for impact, but it never came. Her ears began to ring, and she opened her eyes, the blaster bolt frozen in front of her. Though it was stuck, and she too felt stuck in place and time, she realized more intense fighting broke out around her, and Vader expertly slashed and swung through rebels who had suddenly descended upon them. Yet she was stuck in her mind.
There was nothing clearer than the blaster bolt staring her in the face, and she understood: she had angered the rebels through no fault of her own. Maybe not all the rebels, but there was no united rebel front, and enough of them didn’t like her. Sabé’s words, originally whispered, screamed in her head. You’re their little imperial princess.
Surrounded by the dead rebels, who she felt shockingly little sympathy for after the blaster bolt to the face, nothing could be clearer. She was also reminded of the fact that Vader was Lord Vader, a Sith Lord, and as much as she laughed with him over the past week and the kindness he showed her, he was a feared killer. A young killer. She didn’t know what it all meant.
The blaster bolt suddenly released, but in the opposite direction, and hit a tree. Vader was choking one last rebel, who he suddenly lost patience with and slammed against the ground, knocking him unconscious.
He was in front of her in three quick strides, and he grasped the sides of her face, inspecting it. She was taken back to the memory of their wedding, just a week ago, as his thumb passed over her cheekbone, turning her face to the side. His hands were trembling, she noticed.
“Are you alright?”
She nodded, eyes locked to his. He gave her his cloak. She was freezing, hair still wet from her swim, and she gladly accepted it.
“The troopers will be here in a moment.”
“Won’t they see your face?”
“They’re my closest men, they already have.”
Looking back to the villa, she saw ships, their ships, approaching and landing, troopers running out and entering the forest. Vader marched onward, and she followed him, shrinking into his cloak. They entered a small transport ship, and everything began to blur for Padmé. She felt as if she was sinking into the cloak. Finding a way out of this mess? Assassins just wouldn’t make it easy for her.
The Executor had been on its way to Spira for the wedding tour, and it flew menacingly in the airspace of Spira. Padmé took one breath, two, and snapped out of her haze. Their transport ship docked in a small, private hangar, close to his quarters, Vader had told her, and they were brought to his private chambers. She sat quietly on the bed, still shaken, as he looked through the closets and cabinets. He brought her some clothes - a comfortable and warm gray wrap dress, which she held in her still shaking hands.
Since falling before the Emperor when he told her of his plan to marry her to Vader, she hadn’t really broken down. Sure, she had cried. She cried before her wedding. She was nervous often and feared for the lives of her friends and family. But manage it she did, in healthy and unhealthy ways. Until now. All it took was one blaster bolt to shake her confidence, and she fell back on the bed, hugging the wrap dress, and cried.
Vader froze. To his credit, he did what he needed to do in the situation at hand.
“Are you alright?” he asked again.
“No!”
“What’s -”
“What’s wrong? What’s the matter? Are you seriously going to ask me that right now?” she snapped.
“Uh - yes.”
“Everything is wrong! What was my mistake? I cared for my planet and people. I was called to serve as Senator, and even with all my gripes with the Empire, I wanted to work toward a greater good! I wasn’t even done with the onboarding program, I didn’t even spoke on legislation, and I face assassins. Who in the galaxy can hate me so deeply?” she sat up and limply tossed the dress away. Of course, Vader lifted and folded it with the Force, but he stayed quiet.
“And you! I don’t know what to do about you!”
He sighed. “You can do nothing. I’m not expecting anything.”
“I can’t do nothing! The Emperor is demanding I ‘produce an heir’ and threatening my family at every opportunity. And for the record, I don’t think this is fair to you either. I think you got incredibly unlucky saving me,” she hiccupped, “and you’re stuck with propaganda work that’s beneath you.”
“What did you say?”
His eyes were smoldering again. “He… expects an heir within a year.”
“Or what?”
“He didn’t specify.”
She felt his rage swell. His nostrils flared with every breath, but within a minute, she felt the anger recede. He instead picked up the wrap dress and walked toward her, and she rose to meet him. He shrugged the cloak off of her shoulders, and gingerly helped her put on the dress, tying it carefully.
“I will protect you from the assassins. And from the Emperor.” He kissed her forehead. She placed her head on his chest and felt his real, human heartbeat.
“Why?”
“Because,” he kissed her hand, the one he healed a week ago, and she didn’t drop it and caught his cheek instead, “I am more powerful than the Emperor. And I can overthrow him.”
Padmé pushed away from him, but only physically. She considered: what if she’s been thinking about her escape from Vader the wrong way? She didn’t need to escape from him, but from the Emperor, and who better to recruit for that job than the strongest Force user in the galaxy?
“Then why have you stood by him?”
“I’m no politician.
“Are you - is this a trick?”
“I just told you, I’m no politician. I was hoping you could help with that.”
“Why would we be on the same side?”
His eyes glowed. “We’ve been on the same side before. In fact, I was the one to kill Nute Gunray.”
She hadn’t connected that before. Of course, in the formation of the Empire, someone had killed the Separatist Council, and Vader had appeared as the Emperor’s right hand not long after. A reminder to her of the type of alliance she was about to enter into.
“Then - I accept. Whatever this is.”
And if complicating her life by entering into a political alliance with her Sith husband wasn’t enough, she grasped his face and pulled him down to kiss her.
Months ago, at this point, Vader ran into Sabé in a Senate corridor.
He had frozen menacingly in front of her, and she noticed and bowed her head before him. He took a few seconds, observed the face that looked so much like Padmé’s, and he coughed out, “Whose office do you work for?”
“Senator Amidala’s, sir.”
The Force screeched around him. He kept up with politics as much as was expected of him, but the one planet he would ignore was Naboo. He knew of what the Empire did, of course, he was the Supreme Commander, and he didn’t want to know what it did to the one planet he had positive memories of. Luckily, it seemed the Empire mostly spared it.
“Please show your identification.”
She paled. “I apologize, Lord Vader, but my Senator is just beginning her term, and I arrived a few days early to prepare her office. I’m on my way now to pick up the identification cards for myself and the remaining staff, as they arrive tomorrow.”
Right, that office is two right turns from where they stood, not that he actually cared.
“Very well then. Congratulations to your Senator on her new position.”
Vader adjusted his cape and marched forcefully past her, and he heard her walk away much faster than she did before. He returned to his palace and instantly began to look for the news of her election, appointment, whatever it was that would bring them to the same planet again. And he learned that Padmé hadn’t really changed, that she was hugely popular, that the people of Naboo tried to change the constitution to keep her as queen longer, and she eventually agreed to a Senate appointment. He commissioned a whole task force to investigate new Senators - skipping through all the files of the other Senators until he reached hers - and found out not much had changed in her life, that her family was healthy, that her family for now was just her parents and sister and nieces and not a significant partner.
So, he took advantage of the lull in activity in the Empire to stay on Coruscant. Investigating rebel operatives, something or the other, verifying security, gathering support for the military among the Senate. A new class of Senators arrived, and so did she.
And then, because his attention to her probably hadn’t gone unnoticed, the Emperor turned to him one day and said, “I can give you Amidala.” Vader knew that meant he could also take her away, and that the offer wasn’t an offer, but a plan set in stone. And so for all the evil and destruction he had brought to the galaxy, the Force delivered Padmé right to his side, now resting
His office comlink went off, and Padmé stirred and woke. He whispered in her ear, “I must speak to the Emperor.”
Her eyes widened in fear, her pulse quickened, but she stayed silent.
He got up from the bed and went to his office and reached to close the door, then considered for a moment. This could be an exceptional olive branch. He pulled the door wide open and placed a finger to his lips. Stay quiet. She nodded. He turned on the holoprojector, and the small but clearly angry figure of the Emperor popped up.
“How are we to explain an ambush on a planet we dedicated so many resources to? I am disappointed in you, my young apprentice.”
“The rebels were hiding on planet, waiting to attack. We have already arrested and began interrogating multiple officials from the planet to find the source of the leak. We disposed of the rebels who attacked us.”
“And what of Amidala? Have you identified any more of her rebel contacts?” Padmé sucked in a quick, quiet breath.
“She was too new of a Senator to be involved in anything, and has shunned most communication since the start of the engagement. She’s made no contact this whole week. If she was working with the rebellion, she’d be an exceptionally lazy collaborator. In today’s attack, rebels tried to kill her again, so any of her previous involvement would have been highly anonymous for them to be so eager to kill their own. I have also failed to find evidence that information she has had access to could have led to previous rebel attacks.”
“Very well. I didn’t expect much information from her. I’m considering putting off bulk of the wedding tour for now, we’ll need it more to resolve supply disputes in the Outer Rim. For now, I need a show of the Empire’s strength in Seswenna.”
“We can set course for Seswenna. We are still in Spira’s airspace.”
“Do so at once. You’ll be joined by Admiral Motti and his wife.”
He shut off the comlink. Padmé rose from the bed and wrapped her arms around herself.
“I was being investigated as a rebel operative?”
“Every Senator is investigated as a rebel operative. Don’t take it personally. In fact, you’ve got a job on this trip - talk up the wife. If they’re in the rebellion, or if they’re trying to gain extra favor with the Emperor, she’ll make it known one way or another.”
She nodded meekly. “Is this a job from the Emperor, or from you?”
“Both. We need to know where different commanders and planet leaders stand,” he responded.
“And we can feed false information to the Emperor when necessary,” she sighed, but she made an excellent point.
“Exactly, my politician. We have two days until we reach Seswenna, and I’ll get you more information during that time.”
She smiled at him, and for the first time in years, he felt as if his life was shifting into place.
Notes:
boy have i been on a journey. rewatched prequels a few times. read some of the vader comics. some selective clone wars watching. at one point i was googling if star wars uses metric system or inches lmao (metric is supposedly canon). hell i threw a bit of rebels into it all. and, to top it all off, during my trip abroad i realized i was no less than three hours away from naboo, aka villa del balbianello and i did a last minute day trip. absolutely beautiful, by the way. anyways, we're so back, hope you enjoyed, and thank you for all the support <3
this also might get minor edits, i just really wanted to get it out before the end of the weekend and there's no chance i can spot anything right now, so if you see this part of the note, pls excuse the lil errors