Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Separate them?”

“Another suggestion, you have?” Yoda’s ears perked up as he turned his gaze to the Senator, a small measure of curiosity in his jade eyes. Bail looked over at Obi-Wan, who seemed more interested in his hands than in the conversation.

“When you asked me to be here, I thought it would be to discuss the twin’s future together, ” his eyes slid carefully to Obi-Wan, even though he wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t know the decision would already be made.”

And without so much as his consultation. Or consideration.

“Our first priority, their safety is,” Yoda said, as if that were all the explanation needed. “No other choice, we have.”

Bail shook his head, aghast. “They’re twins. Siblings. You cannot just rip them apart like this.”

He looked back at Obi-Wan, searching for a spark, but he found nothing but that damned empty, vacant stare that has not left him since Mustafar. He still wouldn’t meet his gaze, his expression dark and shadowed.

“Powerful they will be,” Yoda began, tapping his cane on the floor twice as he speaks for the both of them. “Children of the Chosen one they are.”

“I understand that to a Jedi, separating them from their biological family may be of no consequence,” Bail began, “but we are talking about Padmé‘s babies; her children. You cannot possibly mean to raise them apart with no knowledge of the other. That is not what she would have wanted.”

“No,” Obi-Wan objected as he spoke for the first time since they had convened to discuss the twin's future. “It isn’t but it’s our only choice. Anakin had the highest Force potential of any Jedi in recorded history. It stands to reason that the twins will also have a very high potential on their own, but put them together and they will be a beacon in the Force.”

“The Galaxy is a very large place,” he protested weakly, looking between the two Jedi. “Would it really be that much of a risk to keep them together?”

Risk was always a factor in everything. Bail had learned that as early as his parents had let him sit in on Council meetings and partake in Statecraft. He had learned even more how much risk was a factor in everything when he had been elected to the Senate. But he wasn’t entirely convinced that that risk constituted separating the twins. He hadn’t spent countless years of his career trying to keep Refugee families together for him to do something like this without first giving it the consideration it warranted. 

He would do that for Padmé just as much as he would anyone else.

“Palpatine is a Sith Lord,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “He doesn’t just have political power at his fingertips, Senator. He was able to hide himself in plain sight for years, long enough to play us like fools. We underestimated him. Worst yet, we trusted him.”

And oh, would Bail love to rectify that last statement. It was true that once upon a time, Bail had respected the Chancellor. The more he got to know the man, the more that respect had faded into something else. But that’s not what they are there for.

“You really think that he would be able to sense them?” Sometimes Bail wondered if people underestimated the sheer vastness that was their Galaxy. Even with major hyperlanes and hyperdrives, it was still too big to comprehend or even fathom sometimes. Which is why he was having a hard time picturing it. A hundred-quadrillion sentient lives in the Galaxy and over 3.2 billion hospitable planets and somehow — somehow he would be able to sense two little babies. Two.

“I don’t know,” was Obi-Wan’s honest response followed by a sarcastic, half-serious; “but do you want to find out?”

There was a long silence.

“If the Emperor senses them, he will come for them,” Obi-Wan continued as his face twisted with pain. “We can’t be sure what he would do. If he would see them as potential apprentices, or threats to be eliminated.”

Bail rubbed his temple. As far as potential candidates for Sith apprenticeship, two newborn infants don’t ping particularly high on his list. “They’re babies. Hardly anyone’s first choice.”

Bail was resolute not to think about the latter half of Obi-Wan’s statement. The thought alone was enough to make him want to vomit.

“Infants they are now, but not forever,” Yoda reminded him. “Ensure he never comes after them, we must.”

“How?”

“Made to still look pregnant, we will make her.”

There was something to the little green Master’s words, an idea already forming in his mind of how they could go about doing that. It wouldn’t be difficult, not with his resources and his influence, but this… This had potential. It could work, if they played their cards right, maybe this was the best way to keep the twins safe.

(Even if his stomach rolled at the thought of defiling her body like that)

“I can speak to the medical examiner and see if something can be done,” Bail replied, thoughtfully. “If we were to do this, the Naboo could never know. Her family can never know.”

It was just too dangerous. Naboo was Palpatine's homeworld, where he had eyes and ears everywhere. It would be foolish and unbelievably reckless of them to even suggest that her child lived and Bail didn’t know the Naberries enough to know what their reaction would be to finding out, if they would understand enough to stay silent or demand them back. They were wild cards in a game they could not afford to lose.

“Raised in anonymity, they will be,” Yoda hummed. “Until we can train them.”

That caught Bail’s attention for all the wrong reasons. “Train them?” he asked, glancing back at Obi-Wan. “Are you certain that is a wise idea?”

“Our only chance at defeating the Sith, they are,” Yoda replied, as if were the most obvious thing in the world, as if they weren’t talking about babies but pawns instead. Bail could understand how it might be easy to look at things through a certain (narrow) lens, but even he understood that killing Palpatine would not be enough to fix a Galaxy ruined through politics. 

“It’s not that I don’t think they should be trained,” Bail objected. “I have no problem with that, but if you're only going to train them just to kill Palpatine then I do have a problem with it."

It wasn't fair to expect that of anyone, let alone a baby. 

“What I think Master Yoda is trying to say,” Obi-Wan cut in, shooting the Senator an uneasy look, “is that Palpatine has proven himself to be a far more powerful Sith than we ever thought possible. We mistakenly believed Anakin to be the Chosen One — a being who was prophesied to bring balance to the Force. But we were wrong.”

His words were eerie, sad beyond measure — and there was that haunted look again, as the flaws in their thoughts were wrenched into the light.

Bail raised a brow at that. “And you think that his children will be able to accomplish what he couldn’t?”

It wasn’t a question so much as an open blade of criticism. This was too great an expectation to place on anyone’s shoulders, let alone two little babies who had already lost so much.

(It wasn’t fair, and Bail had no problem pointing it out)

Yoda bowed his head, unable to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan was quiet from his spot, an enigma wrapped in the skin of a Jedi.

“No,” Obi-Wan whispered, clenching both of his fists on the table as he closed his eyes. “No, you’re right. We made this mistake once before.” His voice was cracking. It was hard at that moment to think of this man as the Jedi General who had commanded Clones and battlefield alike. He was too broken, too splintered to be what he was supposed to be. “I won’t make it again. Not with Anakin’s children. I won’t.”

“Always in motion, the future is,” Yoda shook his head. His words sounded almost as small as he was at that moment as he leaned heavily on his cane. “Clouded, the future is. Yet to be revealed, their path is.”

Bail thought it was negligent to believe that Force potential alone would be enough to save the Galaxy from this mess, but he knew arguing about it further would get him nowhere. Right now all he could do was focus on the twins; not hypotheticals.

“My wife and I will take the girl,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension. “We have been talking of adopting a baby girl for some time now. She will be loved with us.”

He struggled not to think of his own babe, buried and gone for years now, or of the way his wife had screamed and screamed until her voice was raw and then some. That wasn’t even counting the ones who had been lost before they could ever be born.

His wife was a childless mother and while Leia could never replace what had been taken from them, Bail knew how much Breha would love her — and how much he does already.

“And the boy?” Yoda grunted, snapping Bail out of his reverie.

“I will take the boy to Tatooine,” Obi-Wan said. “Anakin has family there. Owen and Beru Lars. They may be willing to raise him.”

“What about you?” Bail asked as he leaned forward.

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment before he said, “I will stay and watch over him from afar. Tatooine is a wretched place to live, full of slavers and criminals alike. I cannot in good conscience leave Anakin’s son there without protection.”

Bail heard the unspoken words from the Jedi’s lips: this is my penance, they said over and over again.

“Shrouded in darkness, this Galaxy has become, “Yoda said. “Search for the light, we must — ponder our mistakes and ways to remedy them, we have no other choice but to.”

He seemed to be addressing Obi-Wan, but Bail knew that no amount of consolation in the entire Galaxy could make the man who had just killed his own brother, the boy he raised, feel anything less than sorrow. Grief had become his robe, and he wore it well.

Obi-Wan stood, his demeanor closing off. “I don’t mean any disrespect, Master, but no amount of meditation is going to fix what’s been done. The Order is gone. Palpatine is Emperor and Anakin…” his voice caught on the name before he inhaled deeply. “Anakin is dead. By my own hand. There is no remedying this.”

A long silence stretched.

“I’m done,” he said with cold finality. “I will watch over the boy. Protect him. But I will not fight anymore.”

Bail watched him take his leave, hands folded in his lap as he felt Yoda’s gaze on him.

“Lost the will to fight, he has.”

“He’s lost more than that.”

He shook his head then, realizing the extent of the damage done. He wanted to chase after him, grab him by the shoulders and make him see reason, but Bail knew it would do him no good against the insanity that was grief.

Yoda’s eyes were green, jade, and lined with sorrow that said I know.

He wished it wasn’t so.

Later, he could hear the sound of Obi-Wan’s muffled sobs.

Choking, “Anakin.” Anger and grief fighting for control. “Why did you do it, Anakin? Why?”

His sobs ricocheted off the walls as Bail winced. His words were swallowed by grief, barely even audible between the gasps and hiccups.

He stood at the door, unsure whether or not to comfort him or give him privacy. Grief was a demanding mistress, and seldom did she ever show mercy. An unpleasant image filled his mind at that thought, and Bail couldn’t get the image of burnt flesh and a blackened corpse left to the fires of Mustafar. He thought of mercy – and the lack thereof – as he listened to the Jedi curse his former Padawan.

Bail wonders whether he should feel guilty that he was glad he wasn’t Obi-Wan or not.

(He didn't)

He looked around at the medical examiner’s office, sterile and cold just like the rest of the station. The man seated across from him was young, not much older than Skywalker had been, his eyes narrowed in confusion as he regarded the Politician with a skeptical gaze.

“You want me to do what?”

Bail sighed. “I need you to make it look like she died still pregnant.”

He’d already explained it once, and his patience was beginning to wane. 

The man’s eyes narrowed even further. “And I assume that also means you want me to forage her medical report as well.”

Bail shook his head, “No, that won’t be necessary.”

The look the examiner gave him was suspicious. A sweep over Bail’s robes, the intricate design on expensive fabric, the symbol of House Organ displayed proudly on the lapels. “This isn’t some sort of political scandal you want my help in covering up, is it?”

Bail huffed his indignation, knowing it wasn’t the first time someone had mistakenly assumed that he and Padme had been involved. 

(And not just professionally)

“I am willing to pay,” he said. “Handsomely.”

Although the offer of money seemed to sway the young man, the suspicion remained. 

“How much?”

“However much for you to do it and keep quiet about it.”

The man considered that for a few moments, biting the inside of his lips thoughtfully as he leaned back in his seat, his hands grasping the armrests of his chair. “Hardly ethical for a Politician such as yourself.” 

Like Bail cared about that. “I am desperate,” he said, discreetly pulling his credit exchanger. “Not for myself but for the children.”

“Because of the father?” he asked.

Close enough. “Yes,” he confirmed. “Their lives depend on this.”

At least the examiner seemed to believe him. “There is a procedure I can do. It’s not legal, or medically ethical by any means, but I can do it.”

Bail breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said with all the sincerity in him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” the examiner replied. “It’s going to cost you. A lot.”

“Of course,” Bail nodded. “How long will it take? I need to see her returned safely to her family as soon as possible.”

Time was of the essence and they’d lost so much of it already. 

The examiner waved his hand in the air, dismissively. “Not long, a couple of hours at most.” He glanced up, taking a moment to add, “It’s uh— it is an invasive procedure, though. I know there are a lot of cultures around the Galaxy that forbid such practices post-mortem, so I want to make sure you understand what it is that you’re asking me to do, Senator.”

Bail nodded despite the way his stomach curdled at the thought of defiling a body, and decided not to think on it. “Do it.”

Bail prayed it would be enough. 

Three hours later he was sitting in the Tantive’s conference room, utterly exhausted.

The medical examiner had been true to his word, and the operation to make her body appear pregnant had been completed, her belly as swollen with child as it had been before she’d given birth. 

He had finally gotten both of the twins down to sleep. Leia it seemed, was the fussiest out of the both of them while her brother was content to sleep the day away, his sweet little hands curled under his chin as he slumbered, oblivious and unaware of the raging Galaxy around him. 

(Bail’s heart still ached at the thought of not being able to take him — how much Breha would love that sleeping little boy)

That thought alone was enough to bring a smile to his face, their innocence a beacon of light in what had become the darkest of days, reminding Bail that in death there was life.

A quick rap at the door had his attention, his gaze meeting that of his chief aid as she lingered in the doorway. 

Sheltay looked at him in that calm, understanding way that she always had about her as she made her way into the room, stopping wordlessly in front of him as she held out a steaming cup of freshly brewed tea to him. 

“Thank you,” Bail said, accepting it. It was Alderaani tea, the smell of sweet honey and Jojoba lemongrass calming his senses as he took a small sip.

“You look exhausted,” she commented, gathering her white skirts as she sat down on the chair next to him. “Captain Antilles says we’ll be ready to depart soon after we’ve done refueling. Are you sure you don’t want to get some rest before we depart for Naboo?”

He shook his head, “No, I— I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to. There’s so much to do.”

“I could contact the Queen’s office for you,” she offered. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate, and I don’t mind.”

“I haven’t even contacted her office on Coruscant yet. I’m not sure what to say to them, or…” he trailed off as he set his cup down, twisting it around as he tried to figure out the logistics of it. He needed to warn them before they sent word ahead to Naboo, partly because he knew they were worried out of their mind for the Senator and also because he understood how these things usually went down. In the end, it was just politics, but someone had to take the fall.

(His gut twisted at the thought, knowing that the first people the Naboo would look at it when they learned of Padmé's death would be those who swore to protect her)

The Naboo wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t understand when a large piece of the puzzle had been deliberately taken out. They would want answers, and Bail would never fault them for that, but the situation was as delicate as it was precarious.

“Stick to the basics,” she said. “Don’t tell them any more than they need to know.”

Which might’ve been easy if Bail knew for a fact that he wouldn’t have to face her family and lie to their face about how their daughter died (or the fact that her child— their grandchildren— had survived). Bail didn’t know if he could do that, and see the pain in their eyes and not hate himself.

He had thought he was glad to not be Obi-Wan, but at that moment he wished he was just so that he didn’t have to face Padmé's family.

“Perhaps that is easier said than done.”

“Like I said, I would be willing—”

“Better it come from me than anyone else,” Bail cut in sharply. Bail sometimes envied Sheltay's ability to turn off her emotions, but she wasn’t the Senator of Alderaan, nor had she been Padmé's friend. “This is my job. My responsibility.”

Sheltay bowed her head in deference. “Let me at least send a message to Alderaan. The Queen should be aware of the situation.”

Breha. Force, Bail hadn’t even considered his wife, the knowledge that she was safe on Alderaan enough to allow him to focus on other things. It wasn’t that this was uncommon with their careers, it was a given that they would go long periods without contact, but this was different. Today was different. Yesterday had been a Republic, today it was an Empire. And Bail had never felt more uncertain in his life.

(Millions of lightyears away, Breha felt the same, worried, worried, worri—)

“Tell her I'm safe, and I'll be home soon,” he said, not wanting to give an estimate for when he would return. 

“Should I tell her about…?”

Bail pondered that for a moment, carefully weighing his options as he took another slow sip. “Do you think she’ll be mad if I show up with Leia unannounced?” he asked.

Sheltay gave him a warm smile. “I think she’ll be delighted.”

He looked back into his cup of tea, trying to imagine what she would say when she saw Leia, that little bundle of joy that was now theirs. Breha had always wanted to be a mother, the opportunity stolen from her too many times to count. “I hope so.”

Sheltay had just opened her mouth to speak when the sound of someone clearing their throat at the door captured their attention, the both of them looking up. “Sorry,” Obi-Wan murmured, skittishly. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Bail said, beckoning him in. “Please, join us.”

He walked up, sliding the chair out before lowing himself down into it, his actions slow and hesitant as Bail took another sip of his tea, feeling himself relax as he did so. “Sheltay here was just telling me that we’ll be done refueling soon.”

“Ah,” Kenobi nodded, folding his hands over the table before glancing at the aid. He looked so awkward and out of place that it pained Bail. “All the better we put this wretched place in our hyperspace contrails.”

“I could not agree more,” Bail said, setting his cup down on the table with a click. “The journey to Naboo will require several jumps, but we should be there no later than a standard Coruscanti rotation.”

Obi-Wan nodded as silence permeated the room.

“If there is nothing else, Senator,” Sheltay began, “then by your word, I will take my leave.”

“Of course,” he offered her a genial smile. “Thank you, Sheltay.”

She bowed her head in deference before wordlessly taking her leave of them, her skirts swishing and swaying behind her as she disappeared behind the corridor.

“Your aide?” Kenobi asked, turning his gaze on him.

Nodding his head, Bail realized that he had forgotten to introduce them, a simple formality that he felt embarrassed for having forgotten. “Yes, Sheltay Retrac. My Chief aide.”

Obi-Wan nodded and stroked his beard. Bail wasn’t sure if that was a nervous habit of the Jedi or just a habit. He took another sip of his tea, something to do in the awkward silence that had descended once again upon the room.

“I assume since we’ll be leaving soon that it’s done?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Done and done.”

“You don’t look pleased.”

It was an astute observation as Bail took a moment to think on it. 

“I don’t like lying,” he admitted. “Especially to a bereaved family, which is what I’ll be doing.”

It wasn’t that Bail was opposed to lying when the situation warranted it. He wasn’t. But the thought of lying to her family was enough to make him feel his borders seep.

“As you so poignantly put it, we don’t have another choice,” the Jedi said, not without sympathy. “But you seem up for the task.”

“We have to be meticulous if this is going to work,” Bail sighed. “Padmé was a high-profile official within the Republic. There will be inquiries into her death.”

It was just the way of things in their line of work. Their lives were not private, and so neither would their deaths.

“I don’t think I need to tell you how impeccable your work is,” Obi-Wan said. “You understand better the world of politics better than I, Senator. I trust your judgment.”

“I didn’t think the Jedi Council was apolitical,” Bail commented, idly. 

Obi-Wan stiffened at that. “That’s a topic of conversation I fear I don’t have the strength for. Not now.”

Bail knew he had hit a sore spot with that one as he nodded, dropping the topic as he redirected, “what do you know of Naboo's funeral rites?”

Obi-Wan looked surprised at that, but then he realized that Bail wasn’t asking rhetorically. “It’s varied, as all things are. Nubian Religious doctrine decrees the dead should be cremated so their ashes could be spread in the lakes and rivers since they believe water is the source of all life,” his brows furrowed in thought. “Something about the soul's spiritual return to it. I was the one to arrange my Master’s funeral there, and the people were kind enough to share their beliefs with me.”

“Interesting,” Bail mused. “On Alderaan, we bury our dead. Cremation isn’t common, many people frown on the destruction of the body, so we put them in the ground instead, which we consider to be sacred.”

The entire planet was considered sacred, which was why it was their duty to protect it. To keep it intact, so that future generations could be able to enjoy and love it as much as their ancestors had. 

“We Jedi cremate our dead,” Obi-Wan whispered. “It’s symbolic of our return to the Force when our time here has ended. Master Yoda always says we are luminous beings, not this crude matter.”

Bail wished he could comfort the Jedi, but an ocean of grief separated them.

“Have you met her family?” Obi-Wan asked, breaking the silence.

“No. She always said she would introduce me to them the next time they came to Coruscant, but it just never worked out with our schedules. Her father, Ruwee, has done a lot of work for the RRM. I wanted to bring him on as a consultant to the Senate regarding Refugee Policy…” Bail trailed off, getting lost in his own thoughts. “She always spoke fondly of them, especially her sister.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, “Did they know about…?”

“I would think they would have noticed,” Bail said before adding; “she was discreet, but in our line of work it’s not hard to tell.”

Not when the gowns became larger, and there was a lot a single padd or file could hide if placed in front of a growing belly. There were ways a PR team could easily hide a pregnancy, but as things progressed it became harder and harder to hide.

(Her pregnancy had been something of an open secret)

“Did they know Anakin was the father?”

“I don’t know,” Bail admitted. “I doubt it, but you never know.”

Padmé it seemed had many secrets. Bail didn’t have any delusions that she would share them with him, but he had a hard time believing that she would keep something that momentous from her family. Not with how close they had been. 

Obi-Wan nodded, ready to drop the topic of his former Padawan. 

But, “do you know why Anakin did what he did?” dropped out of his mouth against his better judgment. He swallowed, “Why he would—?”

Hands twisting, chin quivering, Obi-Wan looked haunted. “I don't know why,” he murmured. “I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out what in Corellian stars he was thinking, but I — I can’t seem to figure out the why.”

And now he would never know. Maybe that was the worst thing about all of this, not that it happened but that there seemed to be no rhyme or reason, the why a question that was as dead and lost as Anakin was.

“It was like he just snapped,” Obi-Wan continued, his words barely above that of a whisper. “I can’t explain it, I can’t…” he put his head in his hands, his brows furrowed in pained thought. “He was fine the last time I saw him. I said goodbye to him, told him…”

He shook his head, as if trying to will it away.

Bail frowned, “Were there ever any signs? Any clues that he was about to—?”

“In hindsight, yes,” he continued after a few moments of silence, taking a few deep breaths. “I just didn’t want to see them.”

“He told me he grew up in slavery,” Bail said. “Mentioned it once in passing. I could see that it troubled him greatly.”

It had been enough to change Bail’s perspective on the young Jedi, his respect for him having grown tremendously. Alderaan was always taking in Refugees from the Outer Rim, many of whom were former slaves. He had seen the cost of it, the trauma, and the pain. The former slaves he had met had carried a weight on their shoulders that was understood by few, especially in the Core where the issue was so far removed from people’s minds and attention.

Obi-Wan nodded, “It did. It was never something he wanted to talk about, though. Especially with me.”

If Anakin had not been able to talk to his own Master about his experiences, then who had he been able to talk to?

(Bail had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t like the answer)

“He lost his mother a few years back,” Obi-Wan explained. “She was murdered.”

“I’m sure that was very hard,” Bail said, finding himself empathizing with the young Jedi. While his parents had never been murdered, their deaths had weighed heavily on him. It was a pain Bail still carried with him, even years later. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “Most Jedi don’t ever know their parents. Anakin was different in that respect. Even though they were separated when he was still a child, he remembered her. Losing her had a profound effect on him.”

Another layer to Anakin Skywalker that Bail had no idea existed until. It didn’t change anything, nor did it justify what he’d done, but it was a piece to a puzzle that was slowly but surely beginning to take shape.

He wanted more.

Maybe it was because Bail liked figuring people out, their motivations, and what made them tick.

(Or maybe it was because this boy had been Leia’s birth father, the question of nature and nurture eating away at him)

“And after he came to Coruscant?” 

Obi-Wan frowned and looked down, seemingly surprised by Bail’s direct line of questioning, “It was hard, especially the first few years. I don’t think he ever adjusted well to Coruscant, or the Jedi as much as we would have liked.”

A feeling Bail could understand. The Core was already hard enough to adjust to if you weren’t from there, but the Jedi was a different ballpark entirely — not one that Bail understood all that well either.

“Anakin took a shining to the Chancellor,” Obi-Wan muttered, explaining without direction as his hands gripped the table again. “Looking back, it’s easy to see how he did it. How he groomed him, how he manipulated him. But at the time, I was just happy he had a mentor outside of the Order, someone I thought I could trust.”

It was a wonder to Bail how the Jedi ever thought giving an adult unsupervised access to a child that young, but then he wondered if that was even a problem in the Order, or if that was just something they were ignorant of because of their lifestyle.

Then there was the unrelated but related issue of a so-called Prophecy that Anakin had somehow been a part of. Bail had no idea what that was about, but from the way Yoda and Kenobi had spoken of it, it seemed important.

Had the Jedi been part of the reason for Anakin’s fall? It was a question Bail hadn’t considered until now, but now that it was in his head, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“You mentioned a Prophecy,” Bail began. 

“The Prophecy of the Chosen One.”

Bail blinked, “what… what is that, exactly? Something about a being prophesied to bring balance?”

Obi-Wan nodded, albeit cautiously, “Balance to the Force.”

“And you thought Anakin was this individual.” It wasn’t a question but a statement as he tried to keep himself from scowling. He’d always been unwavering in his support of the Jedi, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the crushing weight of expectation hadn’t played a role in Skywalker snapping.

(The puzzle was becoming clearer and clearer)

Shame and guilt, the realization of a wrong, and the inability to fix it. The Jedi frowned, then shook his head. “We thought so.”

He would remember that. To right the wrongs, to make sure she never fell into the same trap that he had, but Leia would never know the name Anakin Skywalker or be forced to live in the shadow of his sins. 

Bail would make sure of it. 

Bail knew it was late on Coruscant. Much later than anyone should have been awake, but it only took one single ping before the holo-projector was initiated, Mon’s face materializing before him.

“I should have contacted you sooner, I know. I’m sorry,” he said, wishing they were having this conversation in person. He could tell that she looked relieved to see him, like a great had been taken off her shoulders. Even though the holo-projector, he could see the exhaustion in her eyes. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe," she said, face pinched. “Where are you? You’re not on Coruscant and every time I’ve tried to get in touch with you your office has told me that you’re away on personal business.”

“Is this line secure?”

Mon blinked, then nodded, “I wouldn’t have contacted you on it if it wasn’t. ”

“I am enroute to Naboo,” he admitted. “After what has happened, I left for the Outer Rim with Master Yoda where we rendezvoused with Master Kenobi.”

“They’re alive, then.”

Bail nodded. “Alive, but not unscarred, I’m afraid.”

“We’d heard about the situation at the Temple, and after the Chancellor’s special session of Congress… It seems as though they attempted a coup?” Brows knitted in confusion, still not understanding. “Do you have any idea what that's about?"

“Do you remember what I told you?” he queried. “About the Sith?”

“The ancient enemy of the Jedi,” she nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

Bail couldn’t avoid meeting her gaze, especially with what he was about to tell her, the full implications of everything that had happened seemed as absurd as it was true.

“Palpatine is a Sith Lord,” he answered to a narrowed gaze. “The very same one the Jedi have been looking for ever since the invasion of Naboo.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. “A sith,” she repeated. 

“Master’s Yoda and Kenobi were able to fill in the gaps a little bit,” Bail said, sweeping over her shocked features. “It seems he was the leader of the Separatist movement.”

As twisted and diabolical as it was, it made perfect sense. Especially in hindsight, when all the pieces had fallen together to paint a horrifying image of a man so clever and so evil, and who was able to commandeer democracy and shape it to his own liking.

And become Emperor.

“He was playing both sides of the War?” Shock and disbelief were giving way to fury and anger. 

“I know it sounds absurd,” Bail agreed. “Unbelievably absurd, but it’s true. The Jedi realized the truth and they tried to arrest him.”

“Did they try to arrest him or did they try to kill him?” she demanded, spitting the question out. 

Language, Bail knew, mattered. Especially in situations like this. 

“I believe it was their intention to have him arrested,” Bail conceded. “I don’t think we’ll ever truly know for sure what went down in that room, though.”

There was no holo-footage. Nothing to corroborate either side of the story except for Palpatine’s word, and if there was any holo-footage Bail was certain it had been destroyed.

(The Emperor's control over the Military guaranteed that no one would question him anyway)

“Idealogical differences is not a crime,” Mon remarked. “Neither is being a Sith if we’re being technical.”

A valid point, but, “treason is, though. Warmongering two sides of a conflict in order to increase Executive Power is as well.”

“But if they suspected the Chancellor of being the Sith leading the Separatists, why did they not present it to the Senate? The fact that they attempted a coup in the first place is pretty indicative that they didn’t have the evidence.”

He knew the Jedi had acted outside of their jurisdiction, but Bail knew enough about the situation to know they didn’t have much of a choice either. Another thing that Palpatine was good at, it seemed.

Backing people into corners and crying wolf when they inevitably lashed out. 

The Jedi had acted outside of their jurisdiction, and as much as Bail hated to admit it, he supported it, as undemocratic and illegal as it was.

(Because sometimes doing good meant getting your hands a little dirty)

“It wouldn’t have done much good,” Bail countered. “Palpatine’s influence over the Senate is unparalleled. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

How insanely popular he was, not just with the Senate but with the general public as well. Bail had never seen a more charismatic, compelling politician like Palpatine in his entire career.

(And he’d met a lot)

It was impressive and beyond disconcerting.

But after General Grievous’s death on Utapau and his refusal still to relent his emergency powers, somebody had to confront him. It seemed the Jedi were the only ones brave enough to do so. 

“I find myself agreeing with you,” she confessed. “I’m just afraid the Jedi got in way over their heads with this one.”

“Somebody had to confront him. After General Grievous's death and his refusal still to relent his emergency powers, somebody had to confront him.”

The Delegation had tried, and they had failed.

Peace had never been an option.

“And they failed,” she said, her voice deep and troubled. “ And now we are left to pick up the pieces.”

Bail looked up at those words, taking in the depths of their meaning, frowning. He didn’t like that tone, “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

“The Senate is in chaos. The Emperor is having members of the Delegation arrested and detained for questioning. Anyone who played a prominent role in it, or who has spoken out publicly regarding his abuse of emergency powers was arrested last night.”

“How many?”

“Around sixty or so. Not everyone, but enough to send a message. One was killed for refusing to comply.”

Bail looked up at that word, frowning.

“Killed?” he raged, furious. The room around him was spinning. “Who… Who was it?”

“Senator Alavar .”

Bail felt his breath hitch at the name, his hand coming over his mouth. The floor beneath him didn’t feel sturdy enough like it was about to give out him. 

“We were taken into custody around the same time after the Emperor’s declaration,” she explained. “They’re saying it was an accident; that she was non-compliant and resisting arrest… A contact on Lorrd informed me that her residence there was ransacked, and her family was nowhere to be found.”

An accident? They actually used that word?”

“They’re covering it up. To make it seem like her death wasn’t intentional,” she said before adding; “it seems the tyrant does not want to start his rule a tyrant.”

“Well of course not!” he exclaimed as he began to pace. “That’s why he hasn’t dissolved the Senate yet. He has no choice but to keep up the pretense that we are still a Republic, even through the stench of tyranny.”

(That democracy was still preserved, but one day the mask would fall. It wasn’t a question of if but when. And when that happened, no one would be safe. No one— )

“That stench you smell is not just coming from the Senate building, I’m afraid,” Mon muttered, glancing down. “They’re piling bodies on the steps of the Temple. To send a message.”

(That this is what happens to Jedi… To anyone who dared oppose the Empire)

Bail felt his chest twist at the unwelcome image, Obi-Wan’s words echoing in his head about Jedi funeral rites.

“What does he plan to do with them?” 

She shook her head, “I haven’t the faintest clue, but I do know that people are starting to complain. About the smell. ”

He didn’t have to imagine it for long before he felt his stomach lurch and roil.

“The Emperor is a depraved man,” he rasped.

“He was gracious enough to offer us a pardon and let us keep our seats in the Senate if we agreed to cease and desist with our… Seditious activities or face severe consequences,” she fumed, shaking her head.

“Severe consequences meaning death and or imprisonment,” was Bail’s bitter response. 

He had to stop. Stop and take a few deep breaths, gathering himself and reorienting himself as best he could as he remembered what Mon had told him about Senator Alavar’s family and how they were nowhere to be found. It was one thing to put yourself in danger— that was easy, but your family?

That was different, and not something Bail could’ve done.

(Had Senator Alavar known they would come after her family too, or had she just been that brave?)

“We must be careful moving forward,” she entreated. “They searched your residence on Coruscant this morning looking for you and any evidence you might have there. I don’t think they found anything, but I felt the need to warn you in case they do manage to catch up with you. They’re monitoring us, which is why I had to go through great lengths to ensure that this line was secure before I attempted to contact you, but I haven’t been able to reach Senator Amidala. I was hoping she was with you.”

“She is.” The words stuck to his tongue as he mentally prepared himself. “But I’m afraid I have some very bad news, Mon. Regarding Padmé.”

Mon fell silent for a moment, her eyes growing narrower and narrower as her back straightened. “ Go on.”

“She passed away earlier today.”

Another segment of silence followed, deafening enough that Bail swore he could hear the beating in his chest, the ringing in his ears, the sound of two crying infants—

“May I… May I ask how ?”

She hadn’t been as close with Padmé, and until he had introduced them recently as part of their work in the Delegation, they hadn’t even known each other. But they had respected each other greatly, and it was because of that respect that Mon’s expression was tight.

“She went to Mustafar,” he explained, trying to keep it simple. “I’m not entirely sure what happened, but after Master Yoda and I escaped Coruscant, we were contacted by Master Kenobi. He had apparently followed her there.”

“Mustafar was where the Separatist War Council was located,” she hesitated. “I’ve heard of the Senator’s reputation for getting into trouble, but I can’t imagine what she would be doing there of all places.”

“We think she was there to meet someone.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Do you know who?”

He shook his head, wondering if there would ever come a day that he would be able to share with her the truth with her and not these half-truths and fabricated lies.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Force, this is a mess. Have you informed the Senate? Naboo?”

Ashamed, he ducked his head, “I haven’t had the courage yet.”

He’d been putting it off, dreading having to explain it to her people and her family. The Naboo would want answers. That was a given.

And it would be his job to give it to them.

(To lie to them)

Bail paused before he could speak, staring at the buttons on the console as the blue waves passed him by, carrying them closer and closer to their destination. They would arrive on Naboo at the end of the day, but time was still escaping him.

“You need to tell them.”

Bail could only nod his response.

He knew what he had to do. 

Apailana was barely into her first term as Queen and even younger than Padmé had been when she had ascended the throne. It was the first thing that Bail noticed, even under painted face and ornate regalia.

“Senator Organa,” she almost seemed surprised to be hearing from him, but it was quickly hidden behind that heavy, thick accent that all the monarchs of Naboo adopted. “My aide’s told me that you wished to speak with me. Urgently.”

This was not a conversation he wanted to be having through a screen, but it couldn’t be helped. “Your Majesty,” he greeted, taking a moment to bow his head out of respect for her station, “there is a matter I wish to discuss with you regarding Senator Amidala.”

He’d had her attention before, but now it was undivided. “Is she with you?”

There was something in her tone that hinted at desperation, and Bail found himself regretting having put this off for as long as he did. 

Of course, they were looking for her, worried for her safety. Bail would be too if he were in their position.

“That is why I’m contacting you. I do have her with me, but I’m afraid…” he swallowed. “I’m afraid I have some very bad news.”

He was stalling, buying time where there was none. 

Eyes narrowing, the Queen said, “Go on.”

He couldn’t put it off any longer, mentally preparing himself. “She’s dead,” he said, internally wincing at the bluntness of his tone. 

There was a long stretch of silence.

The Queen blinked. “Dead,” she repeated, as if testing the word out. Bail watched a flurry of different emotions flash across her face, shock, confusion, and disbelief until, with a shuddering breath she met his gaze once more. “ Are— are you certain?”

He nodded his response before adding; “I am enroute to Naboo as we speak.”

She nodded, but it was an absent thing. “Of course, I— how did this happen? How did she—?” 

“She went to Mustafar to meet someone. We’re not sure who, but when I found her I could tell that she had been attacked.” Not quite the truth, but it had so much of it woven in that Bail had no problem saying it as he watched her reaction carefully.

“Mustafar is the location of the Separatist Council,” she faltered. “You say she was there to meet someone?”

It was more than a little demanding, and Bail knew it would only get worse from here on out. “That’s what it looked like, but whoever it was had already left by the time I arrived.”

Which was an outright lie, and one he realized with a sinking feeling that the Queen was not buying as he watched her eyes narrow through the screen. “And how did you know she would be there? Did she tell you?”

There was suspicion in her tone. Bail would have to work extra hard to quell that.

“Shortly after the Emperor’s special session of Congress, I received an automated distress signal from Senator Amidala’s Droid’s alerting me to her location on Mustafar,” he explained, trying to make himself sound as credible as possible. “By the time I arrived, it was already too late. She was gone.”

“Droids?” she asked, sounding almost hopeful. “Did they see who it was?”

He shook his head, “I’m afraid they haven’t been able to be forthcoming.”

She looked doubtful, and Bail made a mental note to have Threepio’s memory wiped. He could probably get away with leaving Artoo's memories intact, but he knew the Protocol Droid well enough to know that keeping his mouth shut was not his strongest suit.

“That is unfortunate,” she replied. Bail could tell that she didn’t believe him, but there wasn’t anything she could do or say otherwise, and so long as there was no trail to follow… Well, Bail could deal with suspicion.

(After everything he’d been through these past two days, it was probably the easiest thing to deal with)

Finally, she leaned back in her seat. “When can we expect you?”

“We will be arriving in approximately eight hours.”

“Then we will begin our preparations, and I will inform her family,” she said before adding; “you have done us a great service here today, Senator Organa.”

He bowed his head once more in solemn deference. “There is no need to thank me, your Majesty. Someone had to see her safely home.”

Her gaze softened as she nodded, “Of course.” Bail thought he might’ve gotten over the hump, until, “We will await your arrival, and we look forward to hearing whatever information you would be willing to provide us in our investigation.”

A promise. “I would be happy to assist in any way I can.”

He was ready for it. After all, lying was a large part of being a politician.

But even then, Bail knew that keeping the Naboo from knowing the truth of what had actually happened to Padmé Amidala on Mustafar wasn’t going to be easy.

Of that, he was certain. 

When the time came to say goodbye, Bail wondered still if they were making the right decision, Leia tucked into the crook of his arm while Obi-Wan held Luke.

“I guess this is it,” Bail muttered.

“And so it is,” Obi-Wan agreed, adjusting Luke in his arms as he began to mewl, his little face rooting around the fabric of the Jedi’s robes in search of milk. The Polis Massans had been kind enough to give them formula, but nothing, Bail knew, could replace the touch and nurture of a mother’s breast. 

“Are you sure his family will want the boy?” Bail asked, knowing it was a moot question. He wasn’t ready to separate them, to force them apart when they had come into this Galaxy together, just the two of them. “What if—”

“Bail.” Obi-Wan’s tone was kind, but firm, using his first time instead of his official title. “He cannot stay with you.”

Bail swallowed back his feelings and nodded. 

“I am certain they will take him,” Obi-Wan said, glancing down at the boy’s sweet face. “And if they do not, then I will raise him. As my own.”

“Watch over him,” Bail pleaded. “Promise me you will watch over him.”

(It wasn’t fair that Leia should get to go to Alderaan while her brother was sent off to the wretched, Hutt-controlled planet. It wasn’t fair —)

“With my life.”

Bail could understand the sentiment as he stared down at Leia, who had finally managed to doze off, her eyes closed to the world, not realizing what was happening around her. 

“Do you think they’ll find each other again?” Bail asked, glancing back up at the Jedi and the baby boy in his arms. “That they’ll be reunited someday?”

Obi-Wan considered it for a moment. “Perhaps,” he hedged. “If the Force wills it.”

And for a moment, Bail could almost see it, two beings out of more than a hundred quadrillion sentients finding their way back to each other, the promise of a reunion strong in his mind.

Bail didn’t know how to explain it, he just knew.

(And he hoped— prayed with all that was in him— that he would be there to see it)

He swallowed as he reached into his pocket. “Here,” he said, holding the commlink he had prepared out to the Jedi. “Take this. If you ever need anything. Anything at all, do not hesitate.”

Obi-Wan stared at the comm, hesitant. “I’m not sure that’s a wise idea.”

“Just… Take it. Please,” he begged. “If anything, to put my mind at ease, and it would be good if we ever need to contact each other for any reason…” he trailed off, holding it up once more.

Obi-Wan accepted it before Bail was pulling him into an embrace, albeit an awkward one seeing as both their arms were full, his arms wrapping around the Jedi, who had stiffened at the touch before relaxing.

They hadn’t known each other well, but after today— after their shared loss and grief— Bail was proud to call him friend.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Bail breathed, feeling the need to say it once more. This might have been the last conversation they ever had with one another for all he knew, and Bail knew he needed absolution. The reassurance that it hadn’t been his fault. 

(Just like when he thought of that boy at the Temple, his throat thick with panic and horror as he watched, never having felt as helpless in his life as he did at that moment)

“I wish that were true,” Obi-Wan murmured, trembling. “I wish that were true.”

They pulled apart, but they remained locked in their grief.

“Take care of her,” Kenobi whispered, and then he was gone.

It took Bail a few moments, staring at the spot that he and Luke had once occupied, the sound of a cane dragging against the floor a backdrop to the heartache as he heard the lock to the bay disengage as a single Jedi Starfighter took to the stars. 

“A powerful emotion, guilt is,” Yoda said, coming to a stop beside him. “Eat away at us, it can, if we let it.”

“Where will you go, Master?” Bail asked, swallowing. “Do you know?”

In that moment, Bail was certain he had never seen someone look more tired, more worn out or exhausted or—

“To Dagobah, I will go,” he replied. “Into exile.”

Bail frowned at his choice of words, but made no comment on it. He wanted to. But he could understand where Master Yoda was coming from, even if he didn’t see it the same way. What had befallen the Jedi had not been a failure, but a wrong done to them.

A wrong for which he hoped there would be justice.

But Bail had no illusions that justice would be long fought and hard-won, and not just for the Jedi either, but for the Galaxy as well. They had to stop the Emperor. The suffering he would bring (had already brought) had to be stopped. 

They didn’t have any other choice.

And if the Jedi could not fight, then Bail would.

(Until his dying breath, when the mask had finally fallen and a second moon hung in the skies of Alderaan)

If not for them, then for the little girl in his arms, who deserved to live in a Galaxy that was as peaceful as the one he had grown up in.

(Even if it hadn’t been perfect.)

Chapter Text

Sabé’s comm was beeping.

The rain was fickle against the windows in Padmé apartments, the watery morning light filtering through the room, evidence of last night’s torrential downpour that had been courtesy of the artificial weather system that Coruscant had. Captain Typho had urged her to shower after their search last night had turned empty, her stomach twisting and curdling. 

And now her comm was beeping, and Sabé knew. 

("She’s not answering her comms—")

She couldn’t stop reliving that moment Dormé had told her. Worry tingling in her spine and pooling behind her eyes. But now she felt numb.

And her comm was still beeping.

“Sabé?” Typho was calling her name, over and over, but it was at the bottom of a lake, muddled and incoherent. She didn’t remember him picking the comm up off the table and answering it, Senator Organa’s voice filtering through the apartment, over the rain, and over the thudding of her own heart. She could see Dormé at the door, hair wet and plastered to her face. She’d never forget the look on her face when he told them, his words clear and concise, sharp and gut-wrenching and and—

“She’s dead,” was all that she heard Bail Organa say, the only sentence that made sense in a string of words that didn’t feel real. 

Padmé wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead.

Sabé didn’t just feel the shocked gasps that echoed around the apartment. She felt it.

She didn’t believe it. It had to be a mistake, a misunderstanding. Somehow, Bail had heard wrong and they would find out she was alive and—

“No!” someone wailed and then the comm was ripped out of her hands by Eirtae (Sabé was still frozen with shock, unable to think or feel, stuck in a moment of time that kept repeating over and over and over again). “No, no, you— you can’t— she can’t be—”

Sabé didn’t believe it. It had to be a mistake, a misunderstanding that would get cleared up, somehow. Bail had just heard wrong and they would find out she was alive and—

“I’m sorry,” Bail said as she felt the floor give out beneath her. “I’m so, so sorry.”

His tone, his words, and the solemn look in his eyes caused Sabé’s chest to lurch with a pain that eventually settled in her gut, stealing the very breath from her lungs as she felt her body wail. 

“Sabé?”

Head snapping up, she met Dormé’s blank gaze from the door, her eyes impossibly wide as Sabé watched the first tear slide down her cheek, the weight of that settling in between the fissures and cracks that was this moment.

Padmé was dead and somehow, somehow Sabé knew it was their fault.

Queen Apailana was not happy. Even through the haze of the hologram, Sabé could see the questions burning in those dark eyes, anger on painted lips that were the color of blood, sadness held tightly behind the ornate fabric of her dress, her shoulders rigid.

“How,” she began, blue hands wound tight around the armrests of her throne, “did this happen ?”

No one ventured to answer what could not be answered, and none were brave enough to try as they sat in solemn silence, the occasional sound of Moteé’s sniffles a quiet backdrop to an otherwise tense moment. 

Typho was the first to speak, his lips moving but his eye fixated on a scuff mark on the floor. “She said she was going to visit her family. That we needn’t follow her.”

That earned a glare and an angry, “And you listened to her?” The Queen sounded as if she didn’t know whether to be upset or dumbfounded as Sabé internally winced.

It didn’t matter. Padmé had been their responsibility, theirs to serve and protect. To have let her run off, pregnant and alone, just a day after the Republic was declared an Empire and the Jedi tried to assassinate the Chancellor was an embarrassing failure on their part.

Even moreso considering the fact that the Queen had been informed by Senator Organa and not the people she paid to protect Padmé.

She had liked her independence as much as anyone else, but to convey that now seemed wrong. One that didn’t do them any favors or add anything of value to a room that was steadily growing tenser and tenser by the second. 

“You all pledged an oath to protect her,” Apailana fumed. “You were her staff, her team, her security, but you are on my payroll. And right now none of you… None of you can even tell me what she was doing there or who she was with or who—”

Moteé erupted into a mess of sobs, interrupting the Queen from her tirade as she buried her head in her hands, trying to contain it and failing miserably. 

Frustration married to grief had the newly elected monarch stop midsentence, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t a move befitting of a Queen, especially now that her makeup was probably smudged. 

Now Yané was crying too, and all Sabé could do was stare at the floor, numb to the world around her. 

Typho’s face was as blank as she felt, wound sharp and tight around the Queen’s words as he rose to his feet. “I understand, and I tender my resignation effective immediately.”

Head snapping up, Sabé tried to meet his gaze but was met with an impenetrable wall, his one eye fixated solely on the Queen as he squared his shoulders. “Typho?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eirtae trying to catch her gaze, but Sabé couldn’t tear her gaze off the Captain, a million thoughts flying through her head as she felt her hands tighten around the armrests of her chair. 

The Queen was staring at him as Dormé shook her head, “No, Typho, you can’t—” 

“You’re right, your Majesty,” he said, pointedly ignoring the handmaiden who had come to his defense as he bowed his head in solemn deference. “As her head of security, it was my responsibility to watch out for her, to protect her and I failed—”

“We all failed,” Sabé cut in sharply as she felt the weight of everyone’s stares on her. “It was just as much our responsibility as it was yours.” 

They were all responsible. That much was clear.

As much as it hurt to admit it.

“You weren’t even on Coruscant when it happened,” Typho snapped. “I should have stopped her. I shouldn’t have let her go by herself, I should have…” he trailed off, swallowing as Sabé watched his fists clench and unclench at his side.

“No, Sabé’s right.” It was Moteé who had spoken in between her tears, dabbing her eyes and her nose as she quivered. “It was— It was all of our jobs. Not just yours, Captain.”

Snot was dribbling down her lip as Eirtae handed her a clean tissue.

Her mind was a mess of thoughts, all of them racing as Sabé tried to think of something to say (something to keep their minds off their shared guilt), her leg bouncing up and down as she looked up at the Queen. “What did Senator Organa say to you?”

“He said she was murdered,” was the Queen’s terse response.

“Those were his exact words?” Eirtae asked, straightening.

The Queen shook her head, sighing, “Not in so many words, no. But that was certainly what he alluded to,” she said before adding; “he danced around my questions like a politician.”

Which was definitely interesting, and something Sabé made sure to make a mental note of as Eirtae cocked her head, also intrigued. Because it didn’t sound like something Bail would do, not in this situation and not when it concerned Padmé. “What did he say?”

“That she was attacked. That he found her on Mustafar, and by the time he got there she was already gone.”

Sabé leaned back in her seat, letting herself be supported by the back as she glanced up towards the ceiling of the Conference room, deep in thought. He hadn’t said much to them other than the specifics, and they had been in too much shock at the time to ask the questions that really needed to be asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“If you ask me it sounds almost too convenient,” Eirtae added. “How did he know to go there in the first place?”

“He must’ve been contacted.”

“By her?” Moteé asked, glancing around at all of their faces.

“Or someone else,” Sabé mused, her grip tightening on the armrests. But that just brought up more questions than answers.

“Who then?”

No one had an answer that they were willing to give, except Yané who was shifting anxiously in her seat. Catching her gaze, Sabé tried to warn her, but the other handmaiden was resolute. “She could have been meeting—” Eirtae quickly and quietly kicked her foot, but that wasn’t enough to dissuade her as she continued in that decisive, careful way. “She could have been meeting a Jedi.”

That caught the Queen’s attention. “A Jedi ?”

Sabé wanted to throttle Yané.

She swallowed and nodded as the room grew tense around her. “Pa— Senator Amidala and General Skywalker were—” 

“Very good friends,” Sabé cut in sharply, glowering at the other woman from across the room

Sabé thought of the Jedi Temple, smoking in the distance as the fire raged. There had been rumors of a Rebellion there, and after the Chanc— the Emperor’s special session of Congress, talk of the Jedi Conspiracy had taken the holo channels by storm.

But Sabé had barely listened, her thoughts on her best friend and the fact that she was missing.

It made sense that she had gone there to meet him. It certainly did explain why she had disabled the tracking on her ship and why she had taken off so suddenly and unexpectedly. If she thought he was in danger…

“General Skywalker?” Was the Queen’s baffled response. “But why would she be meeting him?”

“They were close,” Sabé explained, knowing the maelstrom she was about to release. “Very close.”

She swallowed, not wanting to touch on that anymore. Even in death, Sabé still felt compelled to keep her secrets.

The Queen pondered that for a moment before her eyes widened, just for a second before it was replaced again with a mask of stone. “I see,” was all she said about that, leaving it well enough alone.

But Sabe could see the questions that burned in the Queen’s eyes. The Naboo respected the right to privacy, and Sabé was not one to judge. They had loved each other more than life, but she knew their relationship had been scandalous. There was a reason they had kept it a secret as much as they could, and not just because of Anakin’s status as a Jedi. 

It was because their relationship had been unethical. The Jedi served the Republic and the Senate. If any of the other Senator’s had found out it would have caused an uproar, to think that one member of the Senate was getting privileged information regarding the War from one of the Order’s top Generals before anyone else would have sent shockwaves through the Senate chambers.

Not to mention the oath that Padmé had sworn when she had taken office as Senator, the pledge she’d made to uphold and protect the integrity of the Nubian Delegation (which included not jeopardizing their reputation or participating in scandals). 

Yes, Sabé could see the questions burning in Apailana’s eyes, but it was too late to do anything about it. 

She’d loved Padmé, had respected her as a Politician and protected her secret after catching Skywalker sneaking out of her bedroom early one morning, but Sabé would not deny the mess they had left in their wake. 

Yané couldn’t meet anyone else’s gaze, ducking her head in shame. Sabé was still silently fuming that she had given that information out, not believing for a moment that Skywalker could have been involved in any sort of capacity.

(He wouldn’t have let her be murdered. He wouldn’t have let her be harmed)

Sabé may not have known the Jedi that well, but she never doubted his love for Padmé, or the measures he would take in order to keep her safe.

“Do we know where Skywalker is?”  the Queen asked at last. 

Both Typho and Sabé shook their heads, but it was Typho who muttered, “He could be dead for all we know.”

“We don’t know that,” was Sabé’s sharp reply before addressing the room at large, “We don’t even know if he was the one she was there to meet. Has anyone considered the possibility that she was lured there?”

“By the Separatists?” Moteé asked, skeptical.

It didn’t make sense either, but Sabé was running out of ideas as she pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated and tired. Her thoughts were so disjointed that it was disorienting, the conversation jumping from topic to topic faster than she felt she could keep up with. “I don’t know. Maybe,” she shook her head, trying to gather herself. “It… It certainly is a possibility.”

But it wasn’t one she took seriously, and judging from the looks in everyone else's eyes, neither did they.

"We will have to ask the Senator when he arrives. I am sure then, we will be able to better question him."

Sabé certainly would. There was no question about that.

Padmé was dead and he seemed to be the only person who knew why.

The rest of the conversation was as numb as she felt, only picking up in intensity when the topic of the Emperor was brought up. That was something Sabé hadn’t had the time or patience to even think about yet, but in those brief moments that she did, she saw red. 

But it was a sort of anger that didn’t feel real yet, hadn’t taken shape or affected Sabé’s life like the news that her friend— her best friend since childhood— had been murdered.

It wasn’t real yet.

(Until it was)

“The Emperor has suspended the articles of Sentient Rights. He says it is only a temporary measure until the Separatist and Jedi threats have been fully contained.”

Oh no.

There weren’t even words to describe how bad this was.

“He’s not going to do that, though.” Hands flexing against her armrests, mouth twisting. The Delegation of 2,000 had come into existence for this very reason, because of his inability to let his emergency powers go. Even long after he'd promised, excuse after excuse falling from his silver tongue. 

“No,” the Queen agreed, somber in her tone and demeanor. “But he has to maintain a semblance of democracy or at least the appearance of it. He says the Senate will be maintained and will continue to be the governing body of the Empire.”

“Just without the ability to override his veto, I’m sure,” Eirtae grumbled.

“Or make decisions regarding the military,” Dormé added. 

"Or do anything of importance," Moteé fumed. 

Sabé couldn’t help the shudder that run up the length of her spine.

The fact that anyone could see this happening with their own two eyes and still think that the Emperor was acting in their best interest wasn’t just mind-boggling to Sabé. It was inconceivable. It was true that the Republic had had its shortcomings— that it had failed in a lot of ways, the rot of corruption seeping into its very foundation and permeating the air, but that didn’t mean this was the answer.

Giving away freedom to fix a problem wasn’t fixing the problem. It was just creating an even more vicious beast, one that people would soon realize could not just be escaped.

But how long would it take the Galaxy to realize that? How long would it take the people who had clapped and cheered when the Chancellor had declared himself Emperor to realize they had just willingly sold themselves into slavery?

(How long would it take before that beast they’d helped create was unleashed on them?)

As if to answer her question, the Queen said, “Crowds have begun to form in the streets of Theed to protest over what has happened. As a result, the Emperor has ordered a large number of Clones to Naboo to keep the peace.”

At any cost, Sabé would wager, a knot beginning to form in the pit of her belly. She didn’t like this. And neither did anyone else in the room. 

“Of course, he is,” Eirtae seethed. She didn’t look surprised, but the anger was there all the same. “He has just declared himself a dictator. There can be no room for dissent, not on his own homeworld.”

“I wish I could say Palpatine wasn’t capable of this level of savagery, especially against his own people, but the situation here is escalating faster than I even thought possible. They’re not just arresting protestors. They’re brutalizing them,” the Queen informed them. 

“Is there anything that can be done?” Moteé asked, shock turning into anger with those words. 

The Queen sighed. “There are many here who support him, especially among the older generations,” she said before adding; “and those old enough to remember the Invasion, your Uncle being one of them.”

She was looking at Typho now, pure venom on her tongue. 

“He and Palpatine have always been good friends,” said the Captain, shoulders straightening. “But my Uncle is loyal to the Naboo. I cannot believe he would condone such action against our people, peaceful or not.”

“I wish that were true, but the Emperor has just named him Governor of the Chommel Sector,” the Queen informed them before adding; “ it is he who has been put in charge of the Clones and the effort to control the planet.”

Head snapping up, Sabé searched Typho’s face as his one eye blinked in surprise. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Uncle Quarsh?”

“Moff Panaka now,” she corrected. “Which is why I cannot accept your resignation.”

Apailana didn’t seem like the type to easily be fearful, but it was easy to understand why she wouldn’t want to see the Captain’s career come to a screeching halt. Not when his Uncle just became the most powerful man in the Sector.

That was just politics. 

“I— I understand,” breathed Typho, face contorting with thinly veiled shock. 

He didn’t, but no one could blame him for that. Sabé was still trying to reconcile what she had just heard in comparison to the man she had known for the better part of a decade now.

(The one who had pledged an oath to serve the Queen, and Naboo by extension)

Sabé couldn’t believe it, but then again this day had been full of surprises. And men she thought she knew turned into monsters. 

“Senator Organa will be arriving shortly.” A seamlessly quick and easy redirect. “I must take my leave to prepare for his arrival as well as the service.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Sabé found herself asking, almost pleading. “Anything we can help you with?”

A long, considering pause and then, “Yes, there is actually. You and Bail are friends, are you not?” she asked, looking at Sabé. 

Now it was Sabé’s turn to blink in surprise. “I— we— I wouldn’t say friends. We have worked together on several projects, and he and Pad— Senator Amidala were good friends,” she admitted.

“I would like for you to speak to him,” she said. “Not as an interrogation, but I find myself agreeing with Eirtae. It is far too convenient that he knew when and where to go to find her. I want you to see if you can glean any more information from him.”

“You think he’s hiding something.”

Not a question, and judging from the way the Queen’s lips twitched and her hands flexed over her armrests, she knew it wasn’t either. “I think he’s a politician.”

There was no arguing that. 

Saché was waiting for them when they arrived, dressed in black and purple, her head covered with a cloak that once pulled back revealed a solemn and grim face. Her eyes were red and swollen and she wore no makeup.

She didn’t hesitate to pull Sabé into a hug, her arms wrapping around her as she held her tight, grounding her, offering comfort and understanding.

“I’m so sorry, Sabé,” she whispered in her ear, her breath warm in the chilly morning air as she rubbed slow and gentle circles into her back. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Sabé returned the embrace, content to just be there, in that moment that felt like just the two of them, locked in grief and trembling in each other’s arms. Hot liquid dripped down her nose and chin, spilling onto Saché’s robes as she sniffled. 

(She hadn’t just been Padmé’s body double or her handmaidens. They had been best friends, going back before Padmé had even decided to pursue a career in politics when they had been but children dreaming of a future—)

Not wanting to get snot on the other woman, she pulled away and tried to smile, but all that came was an explosion of sobs before she was once again being pulled back in.

It took Sabé some time before she was able to ask, “has— has Senator Organa—?”

She felt Saché’s nod. “A couple hours ago.”

They pulled apart again as Sabé did her best to maintain her composure as she used her sleeve to dab at her eyes and nose, uncaring whether it was sanitary or not. They would have time to change before meeting with the Queen and the Senator, but for now, she was okay with being a little uncouth.

“I'm—” she stopped, unsure what it was she was even going to say before shaking her head, “we should get going, if we’re going to start preparations.”

There was so much that needed to be done, and it was easier to think about that than it was about Padmé or the Empire—

(That was still something Sabé didn’t want to think about, couldn’t think about)

Mentally preparing herself, she glanced around the landing platform at the Clones, the sun glinting off their white armor as Sabé tried to decide whether or not she could even trust them anymore, and stuck wondering what was going through the heads as she tried to reconcile what she knew with what she remembered.

They had seemed so loyal, to the Jedi and the Republic, and now—

Now Sabé didn’t know what to think of them.

(Padmé had been strongly opposed to the MCA, but she had always respected the Clones, never blaming them, angry at how they had come to be)

And now here they were, with their weapons and their orders, sent to terrorize and brutalize their citizens into compliance, the ones who had been brave enough to show resistance in the face of authoritarianism. They may have been a minority, but Sabé couldn’t have been prouder of her people.

Eyes softening, Saché replied, “the Queen had some additional questions, if you don't mind. It won't take long, just a routine investigation," she looked around at all the faces before adding; “you all know how these things go.”

it said something that the Queen had asked  Saché instead of one of her own handmaidens, but they had been expecting this. “Of course,” she nodded, glancing back at the others as they did the same. 

Saché lead them off the platform, past the Clones, and past the Royal Guard. It was a sunny day, but there was a definite chill in the air as Sabé pulled her red cloak tighter around herself as she trailed after the other handmaiden. 

“You said she disappeared the day after the Emperor’s decree?" She asked as they walked, glancing back at the Captain. 

“She didn’t disappear,” Typho grumbled. “She told Dormé and I that she was going to visit her parents at the Lakehouse. I had no reason not to believe her.”

“And you did not think to touch base with her family to make sure she was with them first?”

Sabé winced at the way that question had been phrased, knowing that it hadn’t been addressed to her but to the group at large. 

It wasn’t a fair question. 

“We— I—” he stammered. “When she said she was going to Naboo, I didn’t think that also included stopping by a Separatist command center first.”

She had been planning on visiting Varykino for months. It was all she had talked about. How she was going to fix up the baby’s room, which color she was going to paint it, whether it would be a boy or a—

(She had been deliberately not thinking about that. It was too painful, too raw)

Saché nodded. “And when did you notice she had disabled the tracking on her ship?”

Typho looked as though he didn’t want to answer that. “The next day when she didn’t comm in like she was supposed to. I contacted her parents and found that they had no idea she was coming.”

No one was blaming him. No one was saying it was just his fault, not when Moteé or Dormé or any of the other handmaidens with her on Coruscant at the time could have insisted on coming with her. 

“And that’s when you called Sabé?” she asked as he nodded.

“I was visiting my brother and his family at the time,” Sabé explained. “They were vacationing on Atrisia and asked if I would like to join them for a few days since we never get to see each other. I shouldn’t have gone, but…”

Padmé had insisted that she go and she had, not thinking twice about it until the holo-news was exploding and Typho was contacting her to tell her that Padmé was missing. The jump from Atrisia to Coruscant had taken less than an hour, but Sabé’s heart had been in her throat the entire time. 

“You were on leave,” Saché replied, hand on her shoulder. “You cannot be blamed for what happened when you were away.”

But Sabé should have been there. 

“Has the Queen said anything to you? About what’s going to happen to us?” Dormé asked as they made their way into the Palace, the rest of the team trailing behind them.

Saché shook her head. “No, and I don’t think she will. She’s got her mind on other things at the moment.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Sabé realized just what Saché had meant by that, her eyes taking in the absolute mayhem and chaos that was the Palace. The running, the shuffling of feet against marble, the barking of orders, the sound of chanting and protesting and—

(Memories of the Invasion came flooding back, the absolute fear and panic as an armada of ships had appeared in the sky)

It wasn’t the same, but it sure felt like it. 

“Just imagine,” Saché said under her breath as they began to descend the stairwell, “you could be having to deal with this.”

Sabé winced. She understood what Saché had been trying to imply; it was pointless to compare the Trade Federation to what was happening now, but,  “I’m sure Apailana is up for the task.”

They had reached the bottom of the stairwell when Sabé spotted Ruwee, her chest lurching at the sight of him. He looked just like she would have expected, shoulders slumped and face hopelessly blank.

“How long has he been here?” Sabé asked, her stomach in her throat. 

“He and Sola were here when Senator Organa arrived, but he stayed behind,” Saché explained before adding; “He’s been waiting for you.”

As if sensing them, he looked up, misty blue eyes meeting brown as Sabé felt her breath hitch. She didn’t hear Sache directing the rest of the group away from them so much as she felt their absence, her eyes glued to Padmé’s father as he rose to his feet, his cloak held awkwardly in front of him, a room and an ocean of grief between them.

“I’ll be in the forum if you need me,” Saché whispered before she too was gone.

Sabé approached him, mentally assuring herself that she could do this. “Ruwee.”

That wasn’t how she wanted to start this conversation, but whatever words she thought she could say just kept getting stuck in her throat. 

“Sabé,” he smiled (at least he tried), but it came out more like a grimace, his blue eyes glistening in the light. His chin was quivering, and she could tell it was an effort in itself for him not to lose himself right then and there.

It took a moment, the painful stretch of a pause before Sabé was crossing the distance and pulling him into an embrace.

She wished she had words to give him, she wished there was something she could say to take this pain away, but there was nothing. Nothing except the two of them and their shared grief.

“I— I don’t even what to say to you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Pulling him tight against her and feeling the trembling in his body, hearing the wail that caught in his throat, feeling his tears on her skin, Sabé vowed she would not rest until his daughter’s murderer was brought to justice.

Chapter Text

The Palace was crawling with Clones.

Bail was greeted with pleasantries and gratitude both as a Diplomat and a friend of Padmé's, and for returning her to them, but when he saw the glinting white armor, the lilt of that familiar accented voice, he felt no more welcomed there than he had in the Temple. 

The Palace was a storm of activity, and Bail knew it was probably similar on Alderaan as well as many other worlds across the Galaxy as they prepared themselves for Imperial rule— whatever that may even look like.

“I trust you’ve been keeping up with the reports coming out of Coruscant,” said the Queen as she led him into her office, her handmaidens shutting the heavy, ornate doors behind them. She made her way to her throne before motioning for him to take a seat. “They’ve temporarily suspended the Articles of Sentient Rights and the Emperor—” she all but spat the title out, “has declared Martial Law throughout the Republic. He’s sending the Clones to all major Sectors and planets throughout the Galaxy in order to keep the peace, both in the Republic and the Confederacy.”

Bail nodded thoughtfully as he took his seat along with the rest of her Council, “With most of the Separatist leadership now dead, the Emperor will need to move quickly so as to secure those worlds before they have a chance to recover.”

A chance to fight back. 

He was being generous with his language. They all knew Palpatine had no intention of securing those worlds so much as he did ravaging and pillaging them, to ensure that they would not rise up in rebellion against him or his new Empire. 

To make them fall in line. As was his intention from the very start. 

(After he had used them for his own gain and then thrown them away like trash once he was done).

They had never been the real enemy. No, the real enemy had always been authoritarianism. When had they lost sight of that? 

“The Emperor says the War is over,” Governor Bibble mused. “But I fear with no formal concessions, the Separatists will continue to fight back where and when they can.”

“The conflict is far from over,” Bail agreed. “No matter what the holo-net is saying.”

There was a pause, the scrutiny of a stare, “Yes,” the Queen agreed. “And the narrative that they’re pushing is very troubling. They’re saying the Jedi betrayed the Republic. That they tried to kill Palpatine, that it was all some sort of Separatist Conspiracy to take control of the Senate and the Republic through the Jedi. Is this true?”

Bail wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. It was a narrative all right. A twisted one.

“The Jedi did attempt a coup,” was his honest response as the room around him erupted into hushed whispers. He tried to continue but was unable to until the Queen held up her hand, effectively silencing them. “But it was not because of a conspiracy, or their desire to control the Senate.”

“Then what was it?” a woman that Bail did not know asked.

“They saw him for what he really was,” he replied. “And they were the only ones brave enough to try and stop him.”

“Well it was incredibly stupid of them,” Bibble scoffed.

“And incredibly brave,” was the Queen’s pointed response. 

It was an underestimate, actually. If they had succeeded, the Jedi would have been stuck between a rock and hard place and would have had to stay in power until a peaceful transition could be made, which would have resulted in heavy backlash and scrutiny, not just from the Senate and the Courts, but from the public as well. 

“Yes, but when it comes to coups everything hinges on your success,” Bibble reminded them. “And in this instance, they failed.”

The message was clear: you either succeed or you hang as traitors. Few would know the truth, and even fewer would know of the weight of the sacrifice they tried to make. 

“I saw a boy, not much older than yourself your Majesty, get gunned down at the Temple,” Bail felt compelled to add. “He was a child and they murdered him. Is that the cost the Jedi must pay for their failures?” he asked, making sure to look at Sio Bibble. “Innocents who had nothing to do with any of this?”

There was a gasp. “What do you mean a child? There was nothing in any of the reports to indicate that children were—”

“I went to the Temple,” Bail cut in sharply. “I saw the fire and the smoke and nobody was telling us anything, so I took my speeder and I went there myself to see if I could find out what was happening.”

It had been an incredibly foolish move on his part, but for what he had discovered there, Bail knew it had been worth it.

(If only he could have saved that boy, if only he had tried —)

“This is outrageous!” someone cried. “If this is true, then Palpatine must answer for it!”

“Who don’t you tell that to the Clones running amock in my Palace?” The Queen snapped. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “I figured that something along those lines must have happened, especially with his refusal to relent his emergency powers. But I never imagined… I never thought…”

Palpatine. A wolf in sheepskin. Once upon a time, Bail would never have thought him capable of such savagery. That thought seemed far in the distance, now. Like a dream that he had been rudely awakened from. 

“Governor Bibble, is there anything that—”

“I am no longer Governor,” Sio Bibble informed him as Bail blinked, whatever his train of thought now gone at that revelation. “My position as Governor of Naboo has been relinquished by order of the Emperor.”

“Then who is Governor?” Bail asked with a raised brow. 

“That would be Moff Panaka, the new Sector Governor,” Apailana sneered. “My former head of security, as well as Queen Amidala’s.”

“You’re joking.” Confusion was turning into disbelief. Bail couldn’t say he knew Panaka all that well, but he hadn’t been expecting this. “Panaka is not qualified… He’s good at what he does, but… Governor ?”

He was head of the Royal Guard, not a politician.

“But he is loyal to Palpatine,” Bibble grumbled. “Has been ever since the Invasion.”

“And that’s what the Emperor needs now more than ever,” another of the Councilors said. “He’s surrounding himself with only the loyalist of the loyal.”

The Queen shook her head before giving him an exasperated look. “He has a lot of support here, especially among the older generations and the Nobility. They’re saying this will be a new era of peace.”

Her words set him on edge as Bail watched her lean forward in her seat so that she could place her head in her hands, her makeup smudging at the contact.

She looked as tired as he felt. 

And Naboo it seemed was just trying to keep its head above water, stuck in a chokehold that was slowly seeing its autonomy and sovereignty slip away as the power of the Moff’s increased.

Bail didn’t even want to think about what was happening on Alderaan (and countless other worlds around the Galaxy). 

“My hands are tied,” she said at last. “My people are now more divided than ever, which I thought I would never be able to say. Not after the Invasion, but people are tearing themselves apart, and families are being divided along ideological lines. There will be Civil War.”

Outside, he could hear the sound of protesting, something he hadn’t noticed until now as he stood and made his way towards the windows that overlooked the streets of Theed, seeing a crowd of people formed below, their cries and shouts a backdrop to the restless traffic in the Palace, the barking of orders and the echo of boots against ornate marble floors as they work to secure the building. 

“I haven’t told Panaka that you’re here. Not after hearing what they’re doing to the members of the Delegation, but it’s only a matter of time before he realizes,” she warned him.

And as a prominent leader of the Delegation, Bail knew he would be questioned, perhaps threatened (maybe even killed like Alavar).

He knew he shouldn’t stay. Not with Leia onboard his ship, but he wanted to stay. He wanted to show his respects to the former Queen and Senator, to the woman whom he was proud to call his friend and colleague.

(And whose daughter was now in his care).

He nodded as he listened to the unrest, letting it drown everything else out.

The Queen rose from her seat before joining him there, her eyes also taking in the crowd as her hand came to rest on the glass that separated them.

“They haven’t stopped since the Emperor’s decree. They’re flocking from all over the planet — and the crowds have only grown since the announcement of Amidala’s death.

“They’re scared,” Bail mused. “All over the Galaxy, people are protesting — rioting. There are people who are resisting.”

There were people who saw through the lies of the Emperor and his promises, and who were not afraid to speak out.

They watched together in solemn silence as two Clones dragged a woman away, kicking and screaming against them before the Queen looked away, unable to look any longer. 

“The Sector Governance Decree makes it so that I cannot act in situations such as these. Those enumerated powers go to Moff Panaka now. I am nothing but a figurehead now.”

Venom dripped from her tone as Bail too looked away from the gruesome scene.

“They say they want peace, and yet this is what they do,” she snarled. “If this is their idea of a peaceful era, then I don’t want it.”

Blood boiling, Bail said, “this is not peace. This is government-sanctioned terrorism.”

There were bags under his wife’s eyes.

Even through the blue haze of the holo-call, Bail could see just how tired and worn out she was, how tired and exhausted she was.

“Come home,” she begged him with tears in her eyes. “Come home, please. We need you. I need you.”

Their worst nightmare had come to pass. The Galaxy was in ruins and Bail was a million lightyears from her— his wife. He wanted nothing more than to run to his ship and set a course for Alderaan. 

But he had to see this through. 

Bail closed his eyes, “I cannot. Not yet. There is too much that needs to be done, too much I have to see completed.”

“There are Clones here,” she murmured. “They’re… They’re not as I remember them. They’re something else now. I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“I know,” he agreed. He’d seen it himself. The change.

He wished he knew why.

It made him wonder if there was something Palpatine did to them, to turn them into mindless killing machines capable of turning on those they were supposed to be loyal to. 

“I don’t like it,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m worried, Bail. There are reports that Loyalist Senators are being arrested. Anyone who was a part of the Delegation of 2,000—”

“The Emperor is a bold man, but he is not stupid,” Bail tried to reassure her. “He still needs the Senate. His power has not been fully consolidated.”

“Yet. His power hasn’t been consolidated yet, but it will be. One day.”

And that was as horrifying a prospect as it was certain. “I know, I know.”

“What do we do, Bail?” That question seemed hopeless as it was rhetorical. “How do we fix this? Can we fix this?”

Stomach twisting, “what choice do we have?”

He was so tired, so completely worn out. He wanted nothing more than to run to his ship and tell Captain Antilles to set a course for Alderaan. He wanted nothing more than to take Leia into his arms and just hold her in all of her sweet innocence. He wanted nothing more than to fall into his wife’s arms and cry all the tears he hasn’t been able to. He still had yet to tell his wife of their daughter, but now hardly seemed appropriate. Not when sorrow and grief stole the words between them. 

(And when he was certain his room wasn’t bugged, or that nobody was listening in on them)

He would tell her when he returned to Alderaan, when he’d calmed himself and gotten safely off the Emperor’s homeworld.

“We have to fight back,” he said at last, his voice cutting through the silence, resolute. “We have to resist.”

“How?”

“Any way we can.”

But all he could think of was that boy, the Padawan who fought for his life and who, in the end, had died — executed in the name of power, without cause or even a trial.

Just like Senator Alavar. 

He wondered, at that moment, how many would share in their fate.

(But he knew, somewhere deep in his bones, that he didn’t want to find out.)

There was a knock on his door shortly thereafter – a soft rap that almost went unnoticed as Bail glanced up from the reports that Sheltay had forwarded him.

“Come in.”

The door swished open to reveal one of the Queen’s handmaidens, her face covered in a veil that concealed her identity from him. At her hip, there was a blaster, but her hands were firmly clasped in front of her.

The hood was pulled back to reveal a face so much like Padmé's it hurt to look at, lined with grief and sorrow as Bail rose to his feet, the padd forgotten.

Her eyes were so sad, and Bail was just trying not to compare it to the face he saw on Polis Massa, burned into his memory.

("She’s lost the will to live…” )

“Sabé,” he greeted, voice wavering. Whatever he had been planning on saying afterward fell short, the words sticking to his tongue as he searched her face.

There was a pained pause before she said, “Saché told me I could find you here." The door swished closed behind her. "I was hoping to catch you before dinner."

Bail nodded, fighting back a frown. “I wish I had the words to express what I’m feeling, but I’m afraid if I say them I’ll be a sniveling mess.”

That earned a snort. “I think I understand perfectly what you mean.”

There was another painfully awkward moment of silence as he watched her fiddle with her hands, her eyes everywhere except on him. There was a valley between them that hadn’t been there before, and Bail was still trying to figure a way to scale out of it when she focused her attention back on him, her hands going behind her back. “Have you seen the Royal Gardens yet?”

Shifting so that he could look out the window at the purples and oranges that hung low in the sky, Bail thought it strange that she was asking now when the sun would be setting soon. 

But to her credit, Sabé quickly added; “they’re more beautiful this time of day."

Bail smiled. “Then I look forward to it,” he said, moving to grab his cloak off the bed before pulling it around himself.”

Together, they made their way through the winding halls and corridors. The light of the sunset was just beginning to catch in the many stained-glass windows, casting the entire Palace into a warm glow.

“Follow me,” Sabé muttered as they quickly stepped down an adjacent hallway just in time to avoid a group of Clones, pulling her hood over her head as Bail did the same. They stopped, waiting until the sound of boots had faded before they were on the move again.

“I take it we’re not going to the gardens?” Bail whispered as he did his best to keep up with her. It was hard to tell if she was just being careful or deliberately trying to shake someone off their tail as he chanced a glance behind them

“No, we’re still going,” she replied. “We’re just taking a different route.”

He didn’t question her judgment as she guided him through the lesser-known passageways and service levels until they had exited into the Gardens, which were as beautiful as she had described with twinkling lights and lanterns that glowed brightly in the waning light. 

“Do you like your rooms?” Sabé asked, pulling her hood off. But even then, it didn’t escape Bail’s attention that she kept throwing cautious glances behind them, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. 

“They’re wonderful,” Bail answered, also taking his hood down as a gentle breeze caught in his hair, carrying with it the smell of water and flowers. “Theed is such a lovely city. I find myself falling in love with it the longer I stay.”

They passed several gardeners, the sound of their work and their tools a subtle backdrop to their conversation as Sabé bumped his arm. “Not at all like Alderaan, is it?”

Bail smiled, pulling his hands behind his back. “A different kind of beauty, but in no way less.”

“Queen Apailana asked that you stay for the service tomorrow evening,” Sabé informed him. “Although I did tell her that it was probably already your intention, but she wanted me to relay that to you anyway.”

What would appear to most as a kind and thoughtful gesture of hospitality, Bail could see the hidden motive. 

“She asked you to speak with me, didn’t she?” he asked, slowing his steps as he watched her expression closely, gauging her reaction. 

She didn’t say yes or no, but her demeanor was definitely indicative of something as she purposefully kept her face neutral. 

“Of course, I will stay,” he said, catching up with her. “I would very much like to pay my respects, not just as her colleague but as her friend.”

She smiled at that, but it was a sad one that failed to reach her eyes. “I always had such great respect for you and your work. You were always so passionate, so honest, and kind in a way that most people in our line of work aren’t.”

Her words hurt more than Bail could ever admit. “I’m flattered to hear,” he said, hoping that nothing in his expression would give him away.

“Padmé valued your friendship, you know? Your work in the Senate made quite the impression on her, as did your compatriot, Bail Antilles.”

Which was an odd turn of the conversation, but not unwelcomed either as Bail played along. “My wife’s cousin, whom I often get mistaken for a lot, if you would believe it," he chuckled. 

As Agrippa Aldrate would say, there are too many Bail’s running around Alderaan to keep track of.

“Hmm. It’s a shame he never got elected to the Chancellorship,” she said before adding; “I fear we might not be in the mess that we are now if he had.”

Bail frowned. “Antilles was very popular in the Senate, and he had the support of the Elder Houses, but Palpatine was just charismatic enough to sway the vote.”

Probably by buying them, but there had never been any evidence to corroborate that.

(And Bail was smarter than to go around throwing baseless accusations like that)

“Looking back, I can’t help but wonder if she made the right choice casting that vote of no confidence,” Sabé mused as Bail shook his head.

“She did what she had to in the circumstances she was in. That’s all we can do, sometimes. Work with what we’re given and make the best of it,” he said, pulling his cloak tighter around him. “Padmé did what she had to for her people, and no one may fault her for that.”

While he prayed Alderaan would never be in that situation, he knew he would have done the exact same thing. 

At his words, the former body double smiled. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. How unwavering in your support you are. For politicians, that is a very rare and valuable trait to have.”

"If only everyone saw it that way," Bail mused. 

“It feels like a lifetime ago that Padmé was begging the Senate to help us as our people were being slaughtered. And sometimes, it still feels like we’re stuck there, screaming at the tops of our lungs, trying to make people not just hear us, but listen to us as well.”

“Sabé, I—”

“Do you remember,” she began, cutting him off before he could finish, “who it was standing behind her the entire time, watching over her shoulder and listening to her every word?” she asked, crossing in front of him as they came to a sudden halt, her eyes traveling past him.

He followed her gaze, which was on the various landscapers and gardeners that surrounded them as he felt his stomach sink with realization. “How could I forget?”

In almost every memory he had of Queen Amidala, there was a shadow behind her.

“It’s not just him, though. It’s the Queen and the other handmaidens as well. Everyone who thinks you’re hiding something.”

“And you?” he asked, looking down into her brown eyes. “Do you think I’m hiding something?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” she said as they continued their stroll, her arms coming behind her back as she stared off into the distance. “I would hope you would at least be honest with me if no one else.”

“Honesty is more than just telling the truth. It’s integrity. It’s courage. It’s the ability to keep a secret knowing that lives depend on it,” he said before catching her gaze and adding in a low whisper. “I know what it is you brought me here for, but I’m telling you, you must leave this be. Please, Sabé.”

“I never thought I would actually want to be back there, but then I never imagined a world without Padmé,” Sabé continued, ignoring his pleas entirely. It was hard to tell if she was stuck in her head or if her words were overlaying something else (as had been the case with most of this conversation). She looked at him again, the full weight of her stare settling in the pit of his belly as she said, “She trusted you, and so must I.”

Trust. It was probably more than he deserved, but, “Thank you,” Bail whispered, with all the sincerity in him. “Thank you, Sabé. I—”

“But you are hiding something,” she cut him off as she moved closer to him. “You need to leave. As soon as you can. Because whatever it is, it won't stay hidden forever. Not here."

Not a threat, but a promise.

He’d worked so hard, but he knew he would be a fool to think that it couldn’t all be undone.

After all, twilight did cast the longest shadow.

Chapter Text

“She’s been like that all day,” Sola informed Sabé as they stood at the doorway, watching quietly as Jobal spooned dough out of a bowl, her hands shaking as she spread it out on the sheets. 

The Naberrie villa was almost exactly how she remembered it and also not. The air there was suffocating, the feeling of grief and sadness everywhere, pressing down like an invisible weight on Sabe. 

It was overwhelming.

And worst of all it still felt like nothing had changed. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but she could still feel Padme here, like she was just around the corner, a breath about to be exhaled. A word about to be spoken.

“I don’t think its really hit her yet.” Sola made a face at that, adding; “none of us are even hungry.”

The sound of Jobal’s humming seemed to drown everything out. Even the sound of her own breathing.

It was understandable. Sabé's own appetite was nonexistent at that point. Dormé had convinced her to eat some protein bars that morning but it had tasted like cardboard between her teeth, but, “Sometimes—” she tried. Stopped and thought about it. “Sometimes it helps. Doing the things that are familiar to us.”

There was safety in routines. A structure that made sense when everything around you was falling apart. And Jobal loved cooking. The fondest memories Sabé had of her friend's mother were often associated with the smell of mouthwatering spices and food. 

Sola considered that. “I guess that makes sense,” she muttered, still looking at her mother. “I just wish I knew what she was thinking. What she’s feeling.”

There was a hint of longing as well as desperation in Sola’s tone, but she hid it well behind a stony exterior that Sabé couldn’t help but be envious of. Angling herself away from the door, Sola added, “It feels like there’s an entire Galaxy between us.”

A Galaxy that was Padmé shaped.

“I think you might understand better than you think you do.”

Sola frowned. “It’s curious. No one ever told me grief could feel like this.”

Sabé wasn’t sure how they’d found themselves at the window overlooking the gardens but they had. Walking aimlessly through the house until they found themselves there. Away from the cracks in Jobal’s humming and the shakiness of her hands. Away from the unbearable weight of a grieving mother and into something that was still too heavy to be shouldered alone.

“Like what?”

“Like fear,” Sola answered, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared out. Normally, the sound of little Ryoo and Pooja’s contagious laughter could be heard from here as they played in the garden. 

But today was different.

They were both seated on one of the benches out there, holding hands. Staring out at nothing.

Sabé understood immediately.

“I think I would lose myself if I ever lost either of them,” Sola said, speaking more to the air than to Sabé. “I couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t…” she breathed, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her gown.

It was uncouth. But grief was messy like that. 

Sabé pulled an unused tissue out of her pocket and handed it to her. 

“I just don’t understand,” Sola said the moment she was done blowing her nose. “I don’t understand her or any of it. I… just wish she would talk to me. Tell me what she’s thinking.”

“We all feel things differently, Sola. Grief is not a one size fits all.”

There was a moment of consideration. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

Sabé bit her tongue until she swore she could taste blood. “It’s not something anyone can prepare you for. Losing someone you love so… Unexpectedly. You just have to take it day by day.”

Sola’s lips thinned at that. “I think I’d rather feel it all at once.”

It might have made things easier. But, sometimes dealing with waves was better than dealing with a tsunami. Overpowering. All at once.

But Sabé held her tongue. “How are they handling it?” she asked as she redirected her focus back on the girls. They were meandering through the garden, Pooja following after Ryoo as she clutched a stuffed animal to her chest, such pain on her little face.

It made Sabé’s chest clench.

“About as well as can be expected,” Sola sighed. Then bent down so that she could clear the holos that littered the floor. “Ryoo at least understands the concept of death. She’d old enough to remember when my grandfather passed but Pooja… This is her first time dealing with something like this. With death.”

Sabé nodded in understanding. “Children understand better than we give them credit for.”

That was a commonly held belief among their people. The wisdom of children was never to be underestimated, but that didn’t mean that children weren’t still learning. Dealing with things they didn’t quite yet understand.

And death was hard enough to deal with as an adult. 

Sabé grunted as she reached down to help Sola, wondering just when it was that such action made her bones ache and her joints hurt. The years seemed to be coming quicker and quicker these days. 

“I and the girls were up late last night. We wanted to find all the ones with us together. As a family,” Sola explained as Sabé’s gaze lingered on one of Padme when she was younger, her smiling face seemingly peering up at her through time itself. Sola smiled. “That was taken just before she started her first term as Queen.”

Sabé had already known the history behind it. But she didn’t feel like it would be appropriate to remind Sola that she had been the one to take it.

Brain fog. Sabe knew the feeling well. 

She gently set the holo down on the sofa before moving on to the next one.

“The Lakehouse,” Sola supplied. “Right before Ryoo was born. Padmé said the air there would do me some good. I think she just wanted an excuse to get away from the Senate.”

Sabé smiled at that, knowing that had indeed been the case. “She loved that place.”

“Hmmm,” Sola agreed. “She sure did.”

Since when had they started referring to her in past tense?

Sola’s smile faltered.

“What about this one?” Perhaps she could help Sola get her mind off it. Off the pain. Someone had once told her that telling stories was therapeutic.

Sola just stared at the holo. Blinking. “That was when Padmé returned home to visit us a few years ago. With her and her Jedi Protector.”

Jedi Protector. Anakin. Sabe hadn’t looked closely enough at the holo but now that she was she could see him lurking in the background. Like a shadow.

“Is it true what they’re saying?” Sola asked. ‘That the Jedi… That they betrayed the Republic?”

This conversation felt like one they shouldn’t be having. Especially now. But it wasn’t one she could escape either. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t. The Jedi and what had befallen them was a topic of conversation that she wasn’t sure she had the space for at the moment. Not now.

She was dealing with enough as it was already. She didn’t need another tragedy piled on top. 

“The holo news is saying that they tried to murder Palpatine,” Sola swallowed. “I… I’m not sure I believe it.”

Neither did Sabé, but then, “The holo-news rarely paints an accurate picture,” Sabe was quick to remind her as she set the holo down with the others. “And it isn’t exactly a secret who they answer to either.”

Sola exhaled deeply. “Padme certainly had her issues with the Chancellor and his rise to power. She was one of the few brave enough to speak out."

There was definitely an accusation veiled under those succinct words. One that Sabé didn’t need to be politically trained to pick up on either, but, “We’re conducting a thorough investigation. If there’s anything anyone’s hiding we’ll find it.”

“Have you spoken with Senator Organa?"

"Briefly."

"Did he say anything?

Sabé was careful to keep her features as neutral as possible. “Not much, but I'm not surprised. I don't think he knows much either." And then, against her better judgment, she added; "Senator Organa is a good man. He wouldn't lie."

Unless he had to. Anyone was capable of lying. Of deceit. And he was hiding something.

That much was clear. 

The doubt was creeping in. 

“Dormé sent us that one,” Sola supplied, nodding toward the holo that Sabe had absentmindedly picked up.

“Did she.”

“Hmm,” Sola hummed as he pointed at another one. “She sent us that one too.”

They stopped their cleaning to instead reminisce on the past, their minds wandering back to all the fond memories and moments shared together. It was hard to believe that this was all that remained of a life lived. Holos and memories. Sabé didn’t know how long they spent there on the floor, but from the way her legs were starting to tingle, it must have been a while. 

They had almost gotten through them all when Sola yawned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. She looked tired, her face lined with the sort of exhaustion that Sabé could only empathize with.

“Tired?” she asked.

Sola could only nod her response. “None of us got much sleep last night. Between all the crying and the…” she gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “Well, I think you get it.”

Sabé nodded.

“Dad was up all last night making holo calls to the Coruscanti Bureau of Investigation as well as the Senate. He wants answers.” A pained pause and then, “we all do. None of it… None of it makes sense.”

“I wish I had answers for you,” Sabé whispered. She was losing the battle not to cry as she felt a single tear begin to make its way down her cheek. “I wish…”

A hand over hers, a pained look, grief etched into a face that was as familiar to herself as the back of her hand. Sabé had known Sola for years, but she was just now beginning to realize how little she actually knew of the woman in front of her.

She had never realized just how strong Padmé’s sister was. Strong and resilient. 

Just like Padmé. 

“I know,” Sola whispered back to her. “I know.”

Sabé furiously wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her dress. She needed to focus. She needed to get ahold of herself. She needed to not be a mess. “I have a ton of holos of her and I,” she paused. Then tried again, “All of us do and we’d be more than happy to share them.”

That earned a wan smile. “I would appreciate that.” And then, “I still need to pick something out for her to wear. At the Service.”

Sabé smiled as best she could given the widening hole in her chest. “Blue always was her favorite color.”

She said it reminded her of the Lakehouse, of the lapping water against the shore, the sky reflecting brightly off its surface. They’d spent so much of their childhood together there, soaking in the sun and splashing around in the water together. Before the name Amidala had taken them away. 

The water there was still blue, but Sabé doubted it would be as bright a color as it had been before.

Now that she was gone. 

She hadn’t realized she’d been crying until she felt tears running down her cheeks, and saw the sympathetic look in Sola’s eyes as she placed a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to help me?” she offered. “Pick something out for her?”

Sabé felt her heart leap into her throat at the invitation, wanting to so very much and feeling she shouldn’t at the same time as she nodded, slow but self-reassuring. “I— I would be honored.”

Padmé’s room was just as she had left it when she had last visited. Although she had moved out a long time ago, there were still traces and echoes of her left all around the room from when she had last visited. She was in the discarded shoes on the floor, the glass of water on the vanity that still had lipstick on the rim, and the hairbrush still full of hair on her dresser.

There weren’t that many articles of clothing that she had left behind, but they hadn’t thought to bring something from Coruscant and they didn’t have time to go back, so they would have to find something in her closet to work.

But the choice, it seemed, was already made, both of their eyes immediately zeroing in on the blue dress that hung at the very front, unworn and pressed and so very—

Blue.

Sabé could see the clench of her jaw, the way Sola’s hands grazed over the fabric, her eyes a million light-years away.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed, reaching out to brush her fingers over it, surprisingly soft against her skin. It wasn’t one she recognized, but it was definitely something she would have worn, a waterfall of blue fabric and silk that was reminiscent of the many lakes and streams that made up Naboo.

There was a vacant look in Sola’s eyes even though the former handmaiden could see the thoughts flashing across her face. “She bought it the last time we were together,” she mused, her fingers trailing over it, memories dancing in her eyes. “I almost forgot about it. She was planning on wearing it when…when…”  her voice caught in her throat as her eyes welled up with unshed tears. 

Sabé made her way over with careful steps, watching Sola as she sank down onto the bed, her grip on the dress tightening as the fabric bunched in her knuckles, holding onto that memory as if it too would leave her at any moment.

“Sola?” Sabé asked. She didn’t want to intrude on the other woman’s grief, but a glance down at the dress had her worried that she might accidentally rip it if it wasn’t taken from her. 

“It’s a— it’s a maternity dress,” Sabé swallowed as she began to furiously wipe away the tears in her eyes. “She was planning on wearing it when she formally announced it, but she never… She never got the chance to wear it.”

And now she would be buried in it. 

If life wasn’t cruel, Sabé didn’t know what was.

And now Sola was sobbing, the pain of another loss finally spoken aloud and given space in their grief. There was something else that had been taken, the promise of a new life that had been loved and wanted only to be squashed out before it’d even had a chance to live.

Rubbing Sola’s shoulder, Sabé did her best to comfort the other woman, knowing it would never be enough to take away the pain or the hurt.

“I think,” Sola said between the gasps a few minutes later. “I think not knowing is the worst type of pain.”

And hell if that wasn’t what Sabé felt. The desperation and the worry as they had begun searching anywhere and everywhere, as if they could rip the very Galaxy apart and find her. That was until Bail had contacted them, and that desperation had taken on a new shape.

(A nameless, faceless shape that haunted her thoughts, made her feel like her head would split in two just with her imagination, which had been left to run wild and free in place of actually knowing.)

Maybe she could handle Padmé’s death better if only she knew what had happened, and who was responsible. Sola too. 

“Does it ever get any better?” Sola asked, pulling away so that she could properly look at her. “Is there ever a time when it stops hurting?”

Laying her hand over knuckles that kept clenching and unclenching, Sabé said, “no, not really. You just learn to deal with it. With the pain.”

Sometimes it was difficult to explain grief, that strange thing in life that didn’t make much sense, much less to people who had never experienced it. Sabe knew what it felt like. Had known since she was a little girl.

Eyes glistening, Sola’s answering response was, “I don’t think I can get used to it.”

The dress was still bunched up in her hands, but Sabé found no resistance when she reached over and gently pulled it away from her. “You will,” she promised, laying the dress flat and smoothing out the wrinkles. “You will.”

Funerals on Naboo were extravagantly somber affairs. It was interesting to compare and contrast their rites and traditions to that of Alderaan, but to Bail, it was almost too much. The sadness, the air thick with grief, pressing around him with as much force as the bodies that surrounded him, a sea of dark colors and cloaked faces. 

“I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to make it,” Mon was telling him as they waited for the procession to begin, lighting his candle with her own. “The situation on Chandrila isn’t much different than here I’m afraid.”

As it was on probably many planets throughout the Galaxy. The thought alone was enough to send a chill through his body as he wrapped his cloak tighter around him, glancing nervously around at the Clones that had been posted around the procession as he replied, “I’m glad you still managed to find the time. And on such short notice too.”

Her lips thinned at that as she nodded. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Padmé was… She was wonderful. Kind and caring. Passionate. We needed more like her.”

“We still do,” Bail corrected her. “Now more than ever, I’m afraid.”

“It’ll be a matter of time before the Empire realizes you’re here,” Mon told him under her breath. “If they haven’t already.”

That was to be expected of course, but, “Kenobi and Yoda have gone,” he replied in a hushed whisper. “I took precaution. They’re not on my ship.”

She nodded at that. “You and I already have a mark on our shoulders because of our involvement with the Delegation. We need to lay low for a while. They’ll be watching us.”

“We’re already being watched,” Bail said, keeping his voice still low as he made eye contact with a Royal Guard. “And not just the Empire, I’m afraid.”

Mon followed his line of sight. “The Queen?”

“She wants answers. They all do.”

“I don’t blame them,” Mon said. “Their former Queen and Senator is dead and the reason seems vague enough to certainly raise some eyebrows if not outright suspicion.”

“I told you as much as I could.”

“Which wasn’t much,” Mon was quick to point out and even quicker to add, “but then, maybe it was a good thing you didn’t share more with me considering who came to meet me when I first landed.”

“She is relentless.”

“She is a Queen. It’s in her job description,” Mon retorted as the funeral horns sounded, signaling the start of the procession. She added, under her breath, “I won’t be staying long. I recommend you do the same. There are many eyes and ears here, and not all of them as earnest in their quest for the truth as she is.”

Bail nodded. “Trust me, I have no plan of it staying longer than necessary."

They stood in solemn silence as they waited for the carriage to pass them by, Bail’s heart catching in his throat at the sight of her when she did finally reach them. It was disturbing. How peaceful she looked. As though she was just asleep. 

He stared at her as he tried not to think of the flames of Mustafar licking at him, lava lapping, and the smell of ash and smoke and burnt fle—

“Bail?”

There was a hand on his elbow as she passed them by, disappearing down the procession line as he glanced down at the other woman, swallowing until he could speak. “This isn’t how it was supposed to end.”

It was, or else it wouldn't have happened that way. Bail had always been firm in his belief that everything happened for a reason, but it was hard to see what reason the Galaxy or the Force would have had for this. 

So much had been taken. So much had been lost. Not just from her but from everyone. The twins. Obi-Wan. The Naberrie’s. 

Hell, even Skywalker counted on that list, the sum of his entire life nothing more than a blackened corpse left to the fires of Mustafar. All that potential, all that life just… Gone.

The Force worked in mysterious ways, he had heard the Jedi say countless times. Bail wasn’t a Jedi. But he did understand the concept of faith.

And right now, it was all he had.

Chapter Text

The cacophony of the crowd after the funeral had concluded seeped into Sabé’s head, crawling in and making a home there. She was trying to keep herself together, to hold all the parts of her that wanted to crumble away. Just until she didn’t have eyes on her or people trying to make conversation with her. 

It hurt in ways Sabé didn’t even know were possible, putting on a front and making small talk with other funeral-goers when her best friend had been entombed in a stone sarcophagus that was as cold and isolated as she felt. 

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Sabé whispered against the noise. “It doesn’t feel right. Leaving her there.”

"I know, but we have to," Dormé’s voice was low as she gripped her arm, not tight but with enough pressure to ground her. To keep her standing in the face of a tidal wave of grief that threatened to topple her every moment she withstood it. “We don't have another choice."

Sabé shook her head. “I don’t want to keep going, Dormé. I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t… I can’t…”

"We always knew this was a possibility."

That was true. Padmé's job and theirs by extension had always been dangerous, but the handmaidens had always been willing to give their lives for her if it came to it. Padmé had hated it. Even more so after Cordé's death. But it couldn’t be helped. They had known their duty.

Especially Sabé.

She had imagined countless scenarios in which she would meet her end protecting her Queen and friend, but this had certainly not been one of them. Padmé wasn’t supposed to die. Not like this. Not halfway across the Galaxy, none of them any wiser. 

“We were her handmaidens,” Sabé ground out. “We were her protectors.” Her sisters, Padmé had said. “This shouldn’t have happened. She shouldn’t have died.”

She should still be here, she wanted to rage and scream at the Galaxy. Stomp her feet like a child, demanding to know why this had happened. Why any of it had happened.

“But she did,” Dormé whispered.

Sabé had never begged the universe for anything, but the “Why?” tumbled from her lips anyways, choking back tears that had waited far too long to spill. “Why did she have to die? Why—”

“You know as well as I do that not every question has an answer,” Dormé whispered, squeezing her hand. “Sometimes you just have to make peace with not knowing.”

Peace was the last thing on Sabé’s mind. Padmé had never made peace with injustice, and she wasn’t about to either. There was an answer out there. Somewhere.

“That’s not good enough for me,” Sabé raged. “And it shouldn’t be good enough for you either.”

She pulled away from the other woman, whose touch was starting to feel more like fire than anything that could bring her comfort at the moment. Dormé wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either.

And Sabé just needed a moment to breathe. To think.

She found herself in the gardens. Naboo was so very green this time of year, and the flowers in the cemetery were blooming with promise, but as much as she wanted to Sabé couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it. It didn’t matter how sweet the air smelled when she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. 

She sat down on one of the many benches there and let the anguish roll over her. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

“Sabé?”

The voice was familiar but she didn’t want to acknowledge him. She wanted to be alone. She didn’t want his company. Or anyone’s for that matter.

But Senator Organa was far too kind and caring a person than to leave anyone alone with their tears, let alone someone he considered his friend. She just wasn’t sure at that moment if she considered him hers or not.

“I feel like I owe you an apology.”

She tried to laugh but it came out as a sob instead. Which only prompted him to hand her his handkerchief, the symbol of House Organa etched delicately into the corner.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I promise it's clean.”

Which was good seeing as Sabé already had her nose buried in it, blowing for what felt like an eternity before her nostrils had cleared some. Her nose was still stuffed, though. 

“You’ve been far more trusting of me than I feel I deserve considering,” Bail said. “And I haven’t been entirely honest with you either.”

There was clearly more to the story than he had been letting on. Sabé saw it in his movements, the way his eyes carefully swept over not just the Clone Troopers but the Royal Guard as well, but as much as she wanted to corner him and demand he tell her just what it was that had been so on guard, she knew better.

She was trying to trust him. Trying and failing, but still trying.

“I think I’ve known you long enough to know that you have good reason,” she acknowledged. “But I had hoped you would trust me.”

“And I do,” he replied with a torn look on his face. “But I can’t afford to trust everyone. Not here.”

She nodded despite herself. “As much as it pains me to say, he has many friends here. People who support him. Even among the Queen’s cabinet.”

“I heard about Moff Panaka.”

Betrayal struck, vicious and gutwrenching. Yet another person she thought she’d known. But then, maybe that was the way of things now. Feeling as though you know someone only for them to surprise you. She could remember so vividly the days when she’d thought the Chancellor was a good man. An incorruptible man.

How naive had she been?

(How naive had they all been?)

“I thought I knew him. But then, I thought I knew Palpatine too,” she managed to reply, blinking a few times as she used her sleeve to wipe the moisture on her cheeks away. “As it turns out, sometimes the people we think we know are capable of things we never could have imagined.”

It had been a long time coming. The hints had been there all along, but denial was a powerful emotion and by the time anyone had realized what was happening, what he was capable of…

It had already been too late. 

He had stripped the Senate of its power, one at a time until all that remained was a shell. Worst yet, it had all been legal.

Bail nodded his head in agreement, “You’re not the only one that’s learned that lesson.”

She couldn’t tell if he was talking about himself or someone else, but the raw emotion on his face as he said it told Sabe that he felt the pain of her words all the same.

How could they have been so blind?

“It was us,” Sabé murmured. “We helped bring him to power—”

“I doubt that even without yours and Padmé’s help he wouldn’t have found a way,” Bail said. “Men like him are patient. Opportunistic. They know how to manipulate things and events in their favor. You can’t blame yourself for his actions. None of us can.”

“I trusted him,” Sabé hissed. “Padmé trusted him.”

“We all did at some point.”

She couldn’t reply. Just sniffled against the wind as she stared out at a steadily darkening sky, bringing with it the promise of a long night and eventually morning. A new day, her mind supplied, trying to hold on to that as much as she could.

She inhaled a deep breath before asking, “When will you be returning to Alderaan?” 

“Soon,” he replied. “I’m afraid my people are beginning to grow restless. We’ve never lived under Imperial rule before. No one knows quite what to expect.”

“Nothing pleasant,” Sabé snorted. “Nothing good.”

“I fear I may have to agree with you there,” he exclaimed tiredly, brushing his robes aside as he took a seat next to her, his eyes scanning over the cemetery. “The Galaxy is much changed these past few days. I dare say I hardly recognize it anymore.”

“Something tells me it’s always been like this. We’re only just now seeing it.”

Bail considered that for a moment, his shoulders sagging with an invisible weight that seemed to seep into his very being. “I suppose you’re not wrong. But I had hoped that we were better than this. That people were better than this.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

Bail smiled. Bitterly. “Perhaps I am. But I once heard it be said that fools go where even the bravest fear to tread. I don’t mind being that fool if it means standing up and doing the right thing.”

Sabé didn’t need him to explain. She knew what he was referring to as well as the cost.

But war, no matter how justified or needed, was still a crime. “You’re going to fight?”

“I don’t have much of a choice. My conscience won’t let me sit still and watch the Galaxy go to ruins. Not like this. Not without a fight.”

“Then you are an even bigger fool than I thought.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Bail was still smiling, turning slightly so that he could meet her gaze. “But I can’t help but think it’s what she would have done.”

Touché. Bail certainly knew how to weaponize words. Sabé would never deny his skill in that regard.

Although, waging war was easier said than done. It was still hard for her not to admire his courage, though.

“You’ll be putting Alderaan at risk. Your family. Your people,” Sabé pointed out, leaning back as she regarded him with a critical eye. “Are you willing to make that sacrifice?”

“Are you?”

It wasn’t a fair question. But it was one they both knew the answer to already. 

“It takes more than just talking to wage a Rebellion,” she said. “It takes money. Resources. Men and women willing to fight and sacrifice their lives. We’re not at that point. Not yet.”

Bail took a moment to give Sabé a pointed stare, “It’ll only be a matter of time.”

And the sooner they started planning the better. Maybe she wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe it was the grief talking, but Sabé could almost see the shape of it beginning to take form. Abstract in concept, but still there. A light flickering in the darkness. 

But there were still so many uncertainties. So many unknowns. 

The scales were not in their favor. And with what Bail was talking about, it would probably be years before it ever got to that point. But that didn’t mean Sabe was out.

And it didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. 

Sabé shifted in her seat before glancing around them, paranoid that someone was listening in on them. But there was no one else there. Just them and their secrets. “What are you asking of me, Bail?”

She already knew the answer before she’d even asked the question.

“Your help,” he said, none to her surprise. “You and I both swore an oath to the Republic. Just because it is now an Empire doesn’t make our promise void. We still have a duty. An obligation.”

“My duty was to the Senator,” Sabé snapped. “To protect and serve her. And now she’s gone. She’s gone and…”

Even if she tried there was no way she could have finished that statement. It was too raw. Too painful to be spoken aloud. It wasn’t something Sabé had the strength to vocalize just yet as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

“She’s gone,” Bail said, verbalizing what Sabe couldn’t. “But that doesn’t mean what she fought for is gone too. Now I don’t know about you or anyone else, but I think that’s reason enough to keep going. To keep fighting.”

The last sentence was spoken with such vigor and such faith that Sabé could feel her resolve slipping. Hearing the passion in his voice almost enough to remind her of just what it was that she and Padmé had fought for. Together. Even if Sabé had always worked and lived in her friend's shadow, she had always been there. Fighting just as much and just as hard as Padmé.

Just in different ways. 

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to step out from that shadow. To be her own force. 

It seemed daunting.

“I—” she opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by the pinging of Bail’s comm.

He sent her an apologetic look before answering it, Sheltay Retrac’s face materializing before them.

“You need to come back to the ship. Now,” she said, urgency in coloring her tone as Bail gave Sabé a wary look. 

There was something in the woman’s eyes that made Sabé sit up straighter, her intuition telling that something was wrong. Very wrong.

But if Bail was worried that she was listening in on their conversation he made no mention of it as he glanced nervously between them, straightened his shoulders and asked, “Why? What’s happened?”

She only had to utter the word, “Clones,” to elicit a strong reaction out of Bail, his body tightening like a band about to be snapped as he inhaled sharply.

“I’m on my way.”

“Hurry,” Sheltay urged, her face shimmering out of view.

Bail leaped to his feet, his face pinched with worry. She was tempted to demand what was going on, but from the way his face was pinched with worry and at the speed he was moving, Sabé had to take it on faith that it was for good reason as she hiked up her skirt and followed after him.

He wasn’t running, though. Breezing past the funeral-goers and the Royal Guard at just enough of a fast pace that it didn’t raise suspicion, but still moving with purpose, and no one seemed bothered enough to spare them more than a passing glance.

Hangars. They were heading towards the hangars. Glinting white armor caught her eye as a hauntingly familiar voice ordered them to stop, but that didn’t seem to deter the Senator one bit as he pushed past them without an ounce of hesitation, leaving Sabé to just dodge their attempts to grab her as she too bogarted her way in.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Demanding, booming, angry. She had never heard Bail like this, his voice echoing off the walls as she was yanked back, held in place by two Clones. 

“Senator Organa.” Cap— Moff Panaka (she couldn’t forget what he was now) stood at the base of the Tantive’s ramp, two Clones flanking him, blasters drawn and ready. A beige military uniform and cap, rank and insignia on full display, arms held behind his back.

Sabé hardly recognized him.

The mere sight of that calm, composed man that they both knew standing before them not as a friend but as an Imperial was enough to make Bail falter. He had stopped his approach when the blasters had taken a not-so-subtle aim at him, every inch of his body tensed, exasperated.

“Bail,” Panaka tried again, greeting him as if they were old friends, placatingly. Hands held out in the universal gesture that meant no harm. “Don’t worry. This is just a routine search. There is nothing—”

“An illegal search,” Bail cut in sharply. “I am a member of the Senate and as such, I have diplomatic immunity. Explain yourself.”

“The Senator is a guest of the Queen’s,” Sabe called out. “What reason do you have for searching his vessel?”

Gaze swiveling to her, Panaka blinked in surprise as he waved the Clones holding her off. If he was surprised to see her he recovered quickly enough before answering in a careful, measured way. “The Emperor has ordered that certain members of the Delegation of 2,000 be detained for questioning and their residences be subject to mandatory search and seizure.”

“And that includes my ship?” Bail complained.

“It’s nothing personal,” Panaka reassured him. “But orders are orders.”

As if that was all the explanation he needed.

The nerve. 

“This is a violation of my privacy. Of my rights.” Bail sounded angry and rightfully so, but even then the level of his tone never rose so high as to consider outright yelling. “I’ve done nothing to deserve this kind of action, not against the Senate or the Emperor.”

There was an edge to the Moff’s voice as he said, “The Emperor is just taking precautions, as I’m sure you understand given the circumstances.”

“Precaution is one thing, but does that necessitate breaching the confidentiality of my office in such a manner?” Bail asked. “Of the Alderaanian Consulate?”

“Why? Do you have something to hide, Senator?” Panaka tossed out, dodging the question with one of his own.

Sabé wanted very badly to open her mouth and let words that were better left unsaid out, but something else had captured her attention. Something far more fascinating (and horrifying) than whatever propaganda could have possibly fallen from the former Captain’s lips at the moment. Pressed against the ship, a man that Sabe presumed to be the pilot stood, his body shielding Sheltay as well as two familiar Droids, a bundle in her arms.

A bundle that was moving.

No one else had seemed to notice it. Sheltay was being very discrete, making herself appear as small and non-threatening as possible, nothing that would draw attention to them in any sort of way, Panaka’s attention firmly on that of Bail and the Clones, far more interested in their conversation than anything else.

But Sabé had noticed it

And it didn’t take a genius to figure out just what exactly was beneath that swaddling.

Chapter Text

“Why? Do you have something to hide, Senator?”

There was no way Bail could say the first thing that came to mind and avoid Panaka's suspicion. So instead he settled on, “If that were true do you really think I would be here, talking to you?”

It was a struggle for Bail not to look back at where Leia was, not wanting to draw any sort of attention to them. They had been exposed, even if they hadn’t been noticed yet.

Blasters were still trained on him, the stun feature set to off.

“If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear.”

“Those blasters say otherwise.”

Bail let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Panaka motioned for the Clones to lower their weapons, exhibiting the power and control he had over them. “A safety measure we’ve been forced to implement,” he explained. “Tensions across the Galaxy are high. Even here.”

“I noticed,” Bail said. “And this was reason enough to invade the privacy of my office?”

It was a lucky thing that there hadn’t been anything there for them to find, Sheltay having scrubbed the ship’s navigational system and comms as well as any physical evidence that Master Yoda and Kenobi had even been there. All without having to be asked. 

(Which was another reason he’d promoted her to Senior Aid.)

“I’m not your enemy, Bail,” Panaka tried again. “Despite your obvious reservations, I can assure you that the Emperor is just merely trying to keep and ensure the stability of the Empire, and with everything that’s happened these past few days, I think you and I can both agree it is the right course of action. Given the circumstances.”

Bail eyed the man's uniform. The sharp, crisp lines in the olive-colored fabric as well as the pins that denoted his rank. His allegiance. He didn’t know which scared him more. His sincerity or the fact that he actually believed what he was saying. He’d said it with such conviction that Bail didn’t know whether to pity him or be scared of him. “The Senate will not be pleased. Even in the name of safety and security, no one likes being intimidated. Or threatened.”

“The Senate voted for this,” Panaka reminded him. “It’s not like they weren’t aware there would be certain… privileges they would lose as a result. That’s the tradeoff we have to make for order, unfortunately. And if that requires some level of intimidation, then you’ll excuse me for not losing any sleep over it.”

Bail didn’t say anything in response to that. He wasn’t about to start an argument now. “Did you at least find what you were looking for?”

That earned an irritated twitch of his jaw, considering. Then, “No, not I was expecting to anyway.”

Not that it mattered, was what he really meant to say. Bail knew enough to know that the Emperor wasn’t shortsighted enough to make a public enemy of any of the Elder Houses. His especially.

At least, not yet.

“So you admit this is intimidation,” Bail bristled. Palpatine’s way of forcing compliance under the guise of a Separatist threat.

(The Separatists who weren’t even much of a threat now that their Council had been murdered and their General dead. Dooku dead. They were leaderless. Scattered. )

Even more ironic than the notion that the Emperor was trying to install Galaxy-wide compliance without stepping on too many wealthy and powerful toes all at once, especially those in the Core.

(What had been his promise again? About rooting out nepotism, corruption, and elitism in the Republic?)

“I know this will take some getting used too,” Panaka began. “We’re all used to things being a certain way, but the days of ineffectual bureaucracy are over. And after what the Jedi tried to do, I think we can both agree that treason and dissent need to be rooted out.”

“And after?”

“Then democracy can be returned to the people,” was Panaka’s simple response. As if that was actually in the realm of possibility.

What a crock of bull shit. 

And that was why Bail couldn’t help but ask, “You really think that?”

He was trying not to sound condescending, but it was such an absurdity, and his patience, despite years of political training, was still able to be stretched thin. Even in times like this.

He was only human, after all.

“I think that the Republic has suffered under the bloat of corruption and ineffectiveness for far too long for it to be capable of functioning,” Panaka answered, expression tight and affect flat. “You of all people should know that.”

He did. All too well.

But, “that doesn’t mean this is the answer,” Bail said, letting things get far more personal than was probably wise. It was hard not to. 

“Not all of us have the luxury of waiting around trying to find that answer,” Panaka argued, his voice rising just enough octaves for Bail to know he had hit a sore spot. “You have no idea what it’s like, watching the Senate run circles around each other while people died. My people. You have no idea what it’s like being so helpless and at the mercy of a governing body that won’t even listen much less do anything. Palpatine at least has a solution. He at least has a plan.”

Bail could feel not just conviction in those words, but grief as well. He was keenly aware of the support Palpatine had on his own homeworld, and host just because of his political status or his connections, but because the memory of the Invasion was still all too fresh in the minds of the Naboo. 

It took a long time for something like that to get out of a society’s DNA. Not that Bail agreed or thought it was right, but even he could see the merits that such a system might be able to provide in comparison to the Republic. 

(Why people would think an Empire would be better than an ineffective Republic.)

Panaka spread his hands wide. “He may have some unethical methods,” he admonished, “but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the Galaxy’s best interest at heart.”

“What the Empire is doing is more than just unethical, Quarsh,” Bail said, trying not to choke on his conviction. “It’s totalitarian. It’s—”

“The way of things now,” Panaka finished for him, putting his hands behind his back and squaring his shoulders while Bail’s drooped. “The Emperor says this will be a new era of peace and I believe him. In time, you will too.”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t hold the same sentiments,” Bail said, taking a moment to smooth himself out. “If you haven’t found anything, as you yourself said, then I have business to attend to.”

“Of course, of course,” Panaka nodded. “I will not keep you from your work. I’m sure you have much to attend to.”

More than Bail wanted to think about, but Bail managed a perfunctory, “Thank you.”

But Panaka was still staring at him, jaw twitching and eyes darting as he added; “I know this may not be something you want to be hearing from me at the moment, but I wanted to thank you. For bringing her home.”

He waved the Clones off and took a few hesitant steps back before tipping his hat and adding; “Good day, Senator.”

Then he was gone.

And Bail could finally breathe. 

“How rude,” Threepio waved his arms in the air. “Searching a Consulate ship without so much as a warrant. Such madness.”

Artoo let out a series of low beeps and whistles as Sheltay’s voice cut in, low and full of warning, “Bail.”

He turned to face her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was warily fixed on Sabé, fists clenched tightly at her side, eyes locked on Leia cold and impassive and frightening.

Bail had never seen her look so dangerous before.

“You. Fucking. Liar.” Sabé was shaking. “You fucking— ”

“As much as we might deserve your ire at the moment, can we please take this somewhere a little bit more private ?” Sheltay cut in sharply, using her body as a physical barrier between the two of them as she cradled Leia to her chest. “Not out in the open for everyone to see?”

Arto beeped as Bail glanced at the lost funeral-goers, ushering them up the ramp hurriedly. “I can explain,” he said to Sabé. “But not here.”

Looking back, he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d let her follow him. It wasn’t like he had been trying to avoid this situation. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had wanted Sabe to follow him. He had wanted her to see Leia.

To know that not all of Padmé was dead. 

And also because Bail knew he could trust her.

After a moment of careful consideration, she told him, “You better have a damn good explanation.”

Breha would have thought by now she’d be used to the stiff chair that was her throne, but after all these years it was still as uncomfortable as it was the first day she had ever sat in it all those years ago. Hosting these sessions of the Alderaanian Parliament was perhaps the one duty of Breha’s that she hated the most.

She hadn’t even called them to order and already the Ministers were shouting and arguing, the sound of their voices echoing around the noisy room enough to give her a headache. 

“Good Ministers of Alderaan,” she called out above the cacophony, waiting until the background noise had quieted to almost nothing. She cleared her throat, “I would like to formally thank you all for gathering here today, and on such short notice.”

That earned a chorus of murmurs that quickly died down when she held up her hand, “I know that you all have concerns that you would like to see addressed here today. I cannot promise that we will get to them all, you all know as well as I how tedious these sessions can be, but I can assure you that we will try our best to make time for them all.”

Breha had been practicing and practicing on what she would say. It wasn’t easy, and with how tense the atmosphere on Alderaan had become, she had no expectations that it would be. Not three days had passed since the Emperor’s decree and already the shadow of the Empire loomed large.

“I am afraid to say that we have found ourselves in the most peculiar and foreign of situations. The Republic has been a pillar of our Galaxy, the foundation of peace and democracy upon which we have helped not only to build but to maintain as well.”

There were countless voices who could attest that it wasn’t perfect by any means, some more vehemently than others, but that didn’t mean the fight for freedom and democracy was over by any means.

Not if Breha had anything to say about it.

She continued, “We have always had a Republic. Never before in our lifetimes or the lifetimes of our grandparents and great-grandparents has there ever been an Empire of this size or power. We are, as my late mother often told me, in uncharted territory now.”

Without so much as a map or any type of guidance. There was no training she could have received that would have prepared her for this situation. 

She was scared. More scared than she had ever been in her life, but she was also a Queen. A Queen who had no choice but to push through. “But we are Alderaanians. We will get through this. We will persevere.”

The Minister’s weren’t as convinced as she was. “Your Majesty, what are your plans regarding the protests that have erupted all across the planet?” asked one of them. “Right now, thousands upon thousands of our citizens are flocking to the Universities and the public forums, anywhere they can meet in large numbers in order to protest the Empire. With the size of these crowds and their anger, I fear we may soon find an army of Clones at our doorstep. As many other worlds are experiencing across the Galaxy.”

The room erupted into a chorus of hushed whispers and agreements over that, the Minister’s all leaning over to whisper to one another.

Breha had been keeping a close eye on the reports that had been flooding into her office, from Coruscant itself all the way to Outer Rim and the Confederacy. She knew the importance of being informed, even if half of the news that was flooding in wasn’t reliable. Picking truth from propaganda had become an increasingly difficult task these days.

She considered that before asking, “And what would you have me do?”

“You are the Minister of Education. The Universities and the public schools are under your purview. Tell them to stop letting the public congregate there. Issue a curfew and tell people to remain calm,” he urged.

It took Breha a lot longer this time to get control of the Ministers, holding up her hand in order to quiet the whispers and murmurs that echoed off the vast stone walls that made voices carry, trying to regain their attention. “I hear your concerns, Minister Mander, and I agree that something needs to be done, which is why we are monitoring these events closely in the case that they do turn violent, but peaceful protest has always been a virtue of Alderaanian society and culture. I will not take that right away from them, even in the name of our safety.”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I do not think you are grasping the full scope of what is happening. The Emperor has declared martial law across the entire galaxy, Governors with military contracts are taking control of entire Sectors in the name of the Emperor. Already fighting has begun in the Mid and Outer Rim, and so have the killings.”

“But her Majesty is right,” interjected Minister Alde, speaking for the first time since they had been called to session. “They’re protesting— as if their right to do so.” She looked at the Queen before adding; “We have always valued freedom of expression as well as speech here. It is a cornerstone of our culture. It’s who we are as a people. We would be hypocrites to silence anyone out of fear of repercussion.”

Breha could not have said it better. 

The door to the Gallery crept open as one of Breha’s handmaids slipped into the room, unseen by everyone else who was too busy talking amongst themselves to notice.

“Minister Alde is right,” she said, her eyes following the handmaiden as she made her way down the walkway and towards her. She had given her staff strict instructions to only interrupt if her husband called, and so she couldn’t help the thumping of her chest as she tried to keep her voice level. “I understand your fears, and you are right to have them.” She made sure to make eye contact with Mander as she said that, to let him know that she saw and heard his concerns. “But I cannot and I will not silence my people in the name of safety and security. Not when that is precisely what got us into this mess in the first place. If we do that, we become no better than the tyrant running amock on Coruscant.”

There might have been consequences for saying something like that, especially if word got back to the Emperor, but Breha would deal with it as it came, not a moment before.

The handmaiden lifted her hood before leaning down to whisper in her ear, “You are receiving a transmission, my Queen. From Vice Chancellor Amedda.”

Breha exhaled sharply, masking her sharp disappointment behind a look of indifference. It wasn’t typical for her to receive communications as such from the Senate. Normally it was her husband who took care of those correspondences. Not her.

So why was he comming her? Unless it had something to do with Bail. 

She swallowed as she felt a pit begin to form in her belly. “Tell him I will just be a moment,” she said to the handmaid before addressing the Ministers once more. “Lord’s and Ladies of the Council, If I may call for a quick recess….”

Although she had never been formally introduced to the Vice Chancellor before, she had seen him in plenty of Senate proceedings, a helpful shadow to the Chancellor, especially when he had called for order when the Senate had devolved into pointless bickering. But just that: a shadow. He was a stalwart Politician. Respected for his authority but not someone who could be trusted according to her husband. A political chameleon had been the words he had used to describe the Chagrian man. 

And so when his blue form materialized in front of her, horns and tusks in all, Breha wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him. Or what he wanted of her. “Vice Chancellor Amedda,” she greeted, feigning affability. 

“It’s Grand Vizier now, actually,” he corrected her as she fought a twitch, his voice loud and booming as if he was addressing the Senate instead of just her. “The Emperor has seen fit to extend me a promotion, seeing as the role of Vice Chair is now null and void.”

She smiled. “How gracious of the Emperor.”

Amedda gave her a slick, oily smile. “The Emperor rewards those who are loyal. I am honored to serve him.”

Breha’s smile did not falter. “What can I do for you, Grand Vizier?”

“I see your husband has yet to return from Naboo,” he said before adding; “I thought he would be running back to Alderaan by now, and yet he has not.”

His tone was sharper now, imploring if not outright demanding. He wasn’t very subtle, but there was a part of Breha that appreciated that fact about him. “He must have gotten caught up with work. You know how it is.”

He gave her a wan smile. “More than most, unfortunately.” He leaned back in his chair, his forked tongue slithering out of his mouth before saying, “You and I have never been formally introduced before, however with the recent change in administration, I felt it only appropriate to reach out to you personally and deliver this message on behalf of his Excellency the Emperor to inform you that the new Moff of the Aldera Sector is enroute to Alderaan as we speak to get familiarized with you and your staff in preparation for his new role as Sector Governor.”

It was a struggle for Breha not to give her true thoughts on that away as she took a sip of water, forcing it down with a swallow. “I see.”

It had been something Breha had been dreading and preparing herself for quite some time now. It would stand to reason with how powerful Alderaan was, not just culturally but politically as well, Palpatine would seek to put it under his thumb somehow. To feel the pressure however light it may be.

She stared down at her cup, tracing her finger along the rim. “I trust the Emperor wouldn’t assign anyone incompetent to overseeing our little piece of the Galaxy. With how old and how respected it is as a Planet. It’s even said that we were among the original founders of the Republic, if you can believe that.”

“A myth.”

Breha just smiled sweetly. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing, “Daro Shule. I’m certain you’ve heard of him before.”

She nodded stiffly at the name, recognition flooding her. “I have.”

A bureaucrat and a military officer. Lovely.

After all, the Emperor would never appoint someone incompetent to govern one of the most influential and well-known Sectors in the Galaxy much less someone intimately familiar with the politics and culture of the Core. And certainly not someone who came from an Elder House. 

“His experience as both a military officer and a member of the Senate makes him more than qualified, so you needn’t worry on that front,” he said before adding; “It would do no good for the image of our grand new Empire to not have the support of you and your House. The Emperor has been gracious enough not to have your husband properly detained on Naboo.”

Breha hadn’t known that. It hadn’t been in any of the incoming reports that were continually flooding her inbox, nor had it been in any of her husband's formal correspondences.

She had to set her water down before it started sploshing. If Amedda was telling the truth, then her husband was either still being detained or he didn’t trust the communication between them. Especially if the Tantive had just been searched.

“When can we expect him?”

“He’ll be arriving on Alderaan first thing in the morning,” Amedda replied as Breha fought a twitch. It didn’t give her much time. “Hopefully your husband will have returned by then. He is looking forward to getting acquainted with you and the Senator.”

Whatever righteous fury Breha was feeling in her body had to be squashed before she could let it manifest, masking it behind a smile that was all teeth as she said, “I shall look forward to it then.”

When the call was over and his face had dissipated into the air, Breha started pulling up whatever files and records on Moff Shule she could get her hands on.

She had work to do. 

Chapter Text

She was so angry she thought she saw red in her vision, her body trembling as she tried to keep a hold of herself as much as she could and still feeling parts of herself bleeding. 

He started as soon as they were inside the Tantive, the ramp closing behind them as Artoo let out a series of beeps and boops. But it sounded like water, too distant to really understand. 

“Sabé?” he entreated. Trembling, she brushed her eyes, surprised to find them wet. It felt like betrayal, but so much worse than that. She cursed herself for trusting him. “I can explain,” he said, holding his hands at his side as he took a step towards her, causing her muscles to stiffen as she turned away from him, feeling the need to put some measure of distance between them before she did something she would regret. 

“Don’t you say another word,” Sheltay cut in sharply, addressing Organa. Somewhere along the line, she must’ve slipped away, a scanner now in her hands instead of a baby as she turned to look at her. “We don’t know what they left behind, or if they’re listening in on this conversation now as we speak.”

She meant Panaka, but there was enough of an edge in the aid’s voice for Sabé not to respond. “We didn’t plant spyware on your vessel. That’s not how we do things here.”

Sheltay’s brows raised at that. “And how is it you do things?”

“The Queen asked me to glean information out of the Senator due to our past working relationship. Not invade his privacy,” she replied crisply. 

And Bail seemed to know that well enough, his eye catching hers as he nodded for Sheltay to continue. She held her breath as she watched the other woman do a careful sweep around the room while Antilles rocked the babe, leaving no corner untouched before finally making her way back to them and giving them the go-ahead. 

As soon as she did, Bail was pleading, “It’s not what it looks like,” he began, his hands at his side in what seemed to be a non-threatening gesture. “I didn’t kidnap her.”

She had to avert her gaze, her jaw jumping. How dare he. “The Naberrie’s might disagree with you there,” she hissed, raw with anger at his words.

“I understand your anger, but you’re going to have to trust that I have a good reason for keeping her existence from them,” he said, gritting his teeth in frustration. “If you would let me explain—”

“What are you covering up?” Sabé asked, rounding on him with such fury that for a moment he actually looked scared. “What else have you lied about?”

There was the feeling of a vacuum in her lungs, swallowing air down as Ruwee and Jobal and Sola’s anguished faces flashed in front of her, something like anger and betrayal making it so that she couldn’t breathe. Why would Bail take Padmé’s baby from them? Why would he lie and say the baby had died with her?

The Naberrie’s deserved to know that the baby lived. That Padmé’s baby lived.

She swallowed down the grief, a ball at the back of her throat. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she could taste salt in her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to put out the fire that burned through her. The rage.

The anger. 

“Were you ever going to tell them?” she demanded as the baby let out a piercing wail. 

When he didn’t answer she asked again, this time more forceful. 

“No.”

Silence stretched, filling up every inch of the room and then some. Sabe could still hear the baby crying, even now that Sheltay and the Captain had left the room, slipping out as quietly as they could as they left the two of them alone.

“You have some nerve.”

“If you just let me explain," he pleaded. "Sabe, please."

Something in his tone must have struck a chord with her even though he looked as though he didn’t know where to start, wringing his hands in front of him nervously. It was a rare thing, to see him like this. So very out of his element. 

She crossed her arms and waited. 

When he was ready, he asked, “What do you know of the Sith?”

The question caught her off guard, a shiver running up the length of her spine at the word. “What does that have to do with anything?”

And would she like the answer? She could feel a pit beginning to form in her belly. 

“Have you ever heard of them?” he pressed as Sabé had to force images that had been haunting her for years from her mind. It had been over ten years at that point, but she remembered him as clear as day.

“I’ve seen one,” she said, wobbly. “Years ago. On Naboo.”

They’d all had nightmares. After the Invasion, after the Trade Federation was no longer a threat and they could finally sleep. But it was hard to do that when the names of the dead seemed to never end. 

(A cold feeling in her spine, the hum of a double-bladed crimson lightsaber, yellow eyes.)

“There’s always two. Never more, never less.” He sounded as though he was trying to remember. “A Master and an Apprentice. One to have power and the other to crave it.”

“Padmé told me the Jedi were looking for the other one. The Master,” she said, leaning back against the ramp heavily. “I don’t think they ever figured out who it was though.”

"Not until it was too late," Bail said. "As it turns out, he was a lot closer to home than we thought. A lot. At the very heart of the Republic, pulling all the strings."

It took Sabé a few moments to realize why his words felt like a bomb and it felt like the very air had been sucked from her lungs. “Palpatine ?” she asked. Her voice felt like sandpaper, dryer than Tatooine. 

It made no sense. It made perfect sense. 

But then that meant, “The Trade Federation, the Invasion… It was him?” she asked, trembling.

(No, no, no. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t—)

“No one benefitted from that disaster of an event more than him,” Bail said, shaking his head. “He must have been planning it for years.”

The leap in his career had been tremendous, catapulted from being the Senator of a mostly unknown System in the Galaxy far from the political stage on Coruscant to being Supreme Chancellor. Naboo's best interests were always Palpatine's concern, so they had never viewed it as anything less than a win.

She could feel something crawling under her skin. 

“You mean to tell me that Sheev Palpatine is a Sith?” she couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her tone. “The same one suspected of being in charge of the Separatists?” 

“I know I’m asking you to believe the impossible,” Bail began before Sabe cut him off.

“Impossible?” she asked, hysteria coloring her tone. “More like absurd.”

But it made sense.

(Too much sense.)

“This isn’t happening,” she muttered under her breath, and then, more to herself than anything, “How did we miss this? No, no, no— don’t answer that.”

Her chest wouldn't stop clenching. She could see so clearly now how he had engineered his rise to power, not just as Emperor but as Chancellor as well. And she had helped him too. They all had. 

“If what you’re saying is true,” she continued, eyes blazing as she prowled the small space. She could feel parts of herself breaking and bleeding, the taste of ash upon her tongue, “He hasn’t just committed treason against the Republic, but against the Naboo as well.”

(She had been feeling it for a while now— that feeling in her gut. That primal knowledge in the pit of her belly that all was not well. That something bigger was at work. There was a fire where her heart should have been, raging and burning and—)

She wanted to kill him with her own bare hands. 

"But as enlightening as this is," she grit her teeth, pushing through horror after horror until she could refocus, "that doesn't explain why you took her baby."

Bail swallowed. He looked as though he'd been expecting this. "He didn't act alone. There was another. A Jedi who led the attack on the Temple and who agreed to become his new apprentice," he swallowed, his expression hardening. "How well were you aware of the extent of Skywalker's and Palpatine's relationship?"

Sabé felt her jaw jump. “They were close,” she answered. “I think Anakin thought of him as a mentor; a friend.” She shook her head before feeling her eyes narrow. “Why? You think he—”

“With complete certainty.”

She bent over, her hands on her thighs as she took several deep breaths. “That’s why she went there." To find him. 

(Bail was waiting for her to catch her breath, watching her closely as she drew her own conclusions.)

Sabé buried her face in her hands. “It was him. He was the one who attacked her…” she gasped, hands over her mouth as she stumbled, Captain Antilles reaching a hand out to steady her. She slapped it away. “He… He killed her.”

“She died in childbirth,” Bail corrected her, not that it did anything to calm her. She was slumped against the wall now, her body sliding down, eyes wide with horror as he continued, “The stress and the labor must’ve been too much for her to handle.”

Sabé was shaking her head now, in disbelief. 

I’m still not sure entirely what happened,” Bail stressed. “It went by so quick. Obi-Wan confronted him there, and only one of left."

She shuddered. 

“Kenobi suspects he was grooming him,” Bail continued. “Ever since his arrival on Coruscant, Palpatine has had a seemingly strange fixation on the boy.”

(“I take pride in mentoring today's youth,” Palpatine had told her once over tea, giving her a fatherly smile before taking a languid sip, “ It fills me with a sense of purpose. And pride, being able to shape and guide the next generation.”)

She had never thought ill of his words then, or of him. Like Padmé and so many of the other handmaidens, Sabé had also thought of the man as a mentor. The advice he had given her had stayed with her, an anchor through challenging times. But now she was left to wonder if she could even trust the wisdom he had bestowed upon her. Upon any of them.

(And upon Anakin, it seemed.)

She felt like she was going to be ill. “Anakin was nine when he arrived on Coruscant.”

She was gaping at him, hoping and praying with every fiber of her being that it wasn’t true. That Palpatine hadn’t groomed a literal child into becoming his new apprentice. She grabbed the wall of the ship ramp in order to steady herself, her mind screaming at her, he wouldn’t do that— He couldn’t do that! And Anakin… Sabé was having a hard time reconciling this with the little boy they had met on Tatooine. He and his mother had been the reason that they had been able to get back to Naboo, and that wasn’t even counting what that little boy had done for Naboo.

“He was manipulated by a master deceiver,” Bail said. “Same as the rest of us.”

“I feel like I never even knew him,” she cried, not sure who she was talking about more, Palpatine or Anakin. Or both.

“That’s why I have to hide Leia away,” he said in a measured way. “I won’t let him hook his claws into her like he did him. I won’t.”

“She’s a baby—”

“She’s force sensitive,” he interjected. “Just like he was.”

She just kept staring at him.

He tried again. “Master Yoda and Kenobi didn’t want to chance him possibly setting his sights on her like he did Anakin. Especially now that he no longer has an apprentice.”

“She’s. A. Baby.” Sabé wasn’t sure what else she could say other than that. It should have been grossly apparent how underqualified an infant was for the position of Dark Lord of the Sith, or whatever it was that they called themselves. 

“She won’t be forever.” He shook his head, giving his next words some thought. “I’ve been told by Kenobi that Skywalker had a very high midichlorian count. Very high. The highest in the Order’s history. Which is why Palpatine wanted him. And why is Leia in danger.”

“Obi-Wan told you this?” Sabe demanded.

Straightening his shoulders, Bail said, “I trust him.”

“He has connections all over the planet,” he continued when she didn’t say anything. “If the Naberrie’s take her, it opens up the door for him to discover who she is.”

Sabé inhaled. “And you know for sure that he was aware of their relationship?” she asked, just the smallest bit skeptical. 

“We have no idea what Skywalker told him regarding his personal life.”

(And Sabe knew firsthand just how persuasive Palpatine could be at gleaning the information he wanted.)

She rose to her feet and paced again, her movements stilted in the compact space. "And you think she'll be safe on Alderaan. With you."

“House Organa can provide her with protection,” he said, appealing to the status of his House before adding; “she will be cared for. Loved and cherished.”

“While her own family thinks her dead,” was Sabe’s flat response. She brushed the hair off her face back, taking a moment to grip her hair before letting go, sniffling. She didn’t know what was worst: the fact that he was willing to do such a thing or the fact that Sabe was ready to let him. 

“I made a promise,” he said weakly. 

Sabé had made more of those in her lifetime than she could ever keep. And so had Bail it seemed. 

She sniffled again, clearing her nose before adding, shakily, “You shouldn’t be here,” she rasped. “I figured it out almost immediately. You’re lucky Panaka didn’t.”

Because while Sabe had been at least willing to hear Bail out (despite her anger), she knew for a fact that Panaka would not have.

(Which was why it was probably a good thing that he had been completely oblivious to the infant in Sheltay’s arms— focusing only on what needed to be done and nothing else.)

“It would have looked strange had I not at least stayed for the funeral,” he sighed. “And the last thing I’m trying to do is draw attention to myself, least of all from the Queen.”

“She is very suspicious of you,” Sabé conceded. “And you haven’t exactly done much not to make her so.”

Bail nodded, seemingly accepting of the suspicion that now surrounded him. “I’m well aware.”

“She means well,” Sabé said, taking a moment to glance up at him. “But—”

“But it is just not a risk we can take,” Bail finished, letting go of the pipe he had been holding as he stepped closer to her. “I have the utmost respect for the Naboo, and for her Majesty, but good intentions are not going to keep Leia safe. No one else can know.”

She must have looked conflicted, her features betraying her as Bail added, “I mean it Sabé. This cannot get back to Palpatine. Leia’s life may very well depend on it.”

She thought of Dorme. Of Eirtae and Yane and Sache and Motee. She thought of Ruwee and Jobal. Sola and her girls. All the people in her life she would never seek to hurt or lie to.

(Bail knew what it was he was asking her to do. The price he was asking her to pay.)

“Are you certain this is the right course of action?” Her voice was garbled, barely above that of a whisper.

He nodded. 

“And you trust them?”

“Against my better judgment," he answered, the corner of his lips twisting. “But that doesn’t make it easier.”

“I’m still angry with you,” she made sure to tell him, driving the point home. “You lied to me. To her family."

“I never asked you not to be,” he said before adding; “But I do hope in time, you will be able to forgive me. Or at the very least, understand why I did what I did.”

“That depends,” was her terse response.

“On?” Bail asked, hope glistening in his eyes.

“Whether or not you have any job openings in your office,” Sabé said. “I may not be Alderaanian, but I know a thing or two about politics.”

That earned a chuckle as Sabe tried to calm her nerves. It was hard not to think about what it was she was doing. Naboo was her home, and as much as it would hurt to leave it, she wasn’t about to let that baby girl out of her sight.

Leia. 

(Leia Organa, she reminded herself gently, for all the pain it brought her.)

"I may be able to work something out," he said, and Sabe had to calm her nerves. 

She could do this. Really.

Even if it hurt like hell.