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The light began a vicious assault on Padmé’s eyes once the large metal doors of her prison cell were opened. Padmé barely registered the hands that forcibly wrapped around her arms and lifted her up. Wincing at the pain that shot through her thigh as she stood, Padmé began an attempt at surveying her surroundings, locating the two Stormtroopers who began leading her out of the shuttle and down the extended ramp.
Imperial Center’s bleek grey skies taunted her as she was ushered into the domain of the enemy. The palace that lay before her was menacing in every aspect, its towering spires piercing the underbelly of the occasional cloud that would aimlessly drift by. The air was damp and humid, causing Padmé’s long auburn hair to frizz up and stick to the sides of her face that had a light coating of sweat. The small tendrils that hung loose from her intricate hairstyle tickled the back of her neck in a mockingly childish manner, reminding her of her failure to keep her head down and remain unsuspecting.
Guilt began to rise in her belly as she recalled the countless times her friends in and outside the Senate had warned her to keep her mouth shut and not to speak out against the Emperor and his facist regime. Not to speak up and out about the enslavement of the Galaxy, the families that were in poverty, the planets that were hollowed out in order to support the wretched mining industry. Her colleagues were foolish to believe that the young -and somewhat reckless- Senator would remain quiet while the Galaxy wept in anguish.
Grimacing, Padmé recalled the exact moment she’d practically sealed her fate at the hands of the Emperor. While the conversation had been a private matter, the Emperor still had her arrested on treasonous charges.
So defending the people is treason now? Padmé thought as she was taken through the maze of halls that was the Imperial Palace, I’ll keep that in mind.
The Stormtroopers abruptly stopped, causing Padmé to pull herself away from her thoughts and towards the two Imperial Royal Guards that stood patiently guarding the door to the Emperor’s Throne Room. The blood red material that they were donned in was an attempt at threatening people, but it merely made Padmé scoff. The Emperor spent far too much time on appearances that he hardly noted the broken state of the Galaxy he governed.
Foolish bastard.
“The Emperor is awaiting Senator Amidala’s presence,” one of the guards said, although Padmé couldn’t pinpoint which one, “he will not be impressed with your tardiness.”
“The Senator offered her fair share of protests during the journey,” the Trooper to her right commented, causing Padmé’s face to heat up both anger and embarrassment at the clear mockery she was now becoming.
The conversation seemingly over, one of the guards moved to open the large, intricate metal doors. Padmé observed as he pressed in a security code that elicited a low clunk from inside. After passing Padmé over to the guards, the two Stormtroopers left without another word; leaving Padmé to the mercy of the man who’d surely bring her doom. The doors opened, revealing a sickly smell of what Padmé could only describe as burning flesh. Do I really want to know where that’s from? Emperor Sheev Palpatine smiled down at Padmé as she was escorted into the room and thrown onto the floor with a harsh thump , his look displaying the pure pleasure he derived from seeing someone so helplessly struggle before him.
Padmé attempted to stand, but felt a large weight press against her shoulders as she did so, causing her to let out a jerky wimper of pain. “Senator Amidala,” Palpatine greeted, allowing Padmé the luxury of tilting her head upwards towards him, a gift she greatly indulged in while glaring up at the man with her hard brown eyes. “I would prefer it if you treated me with respect, I believe that was a lesson learned during your time as a child at school. Kneel .”
Concealing a snarl, Padmé reluctantly did as he asked, maintaining eye contact as she steadied herself onto her knees and discreetly rearranged her silky skirts that laid around her petit waist in varying shades of purple. Knowing the only way to remain respectable was to cling onto her last ounces of dignity, Padmé replied. “Your highness, it is an honour ,” she mused, gently cocking her head to the side as she remarked, “I believe it was a strong part of the Nubian curriculum to learn respect, yes. A lesson I’m sure you also indulged in-” Padmé took a deep breath “-although it seems as if you’ve forgotten that lesson. I’m sure you remember that respect is a mutual expression; but I’m afraid I feel as if I’m anything but your equal in these circumstances…”
Palpatine simply smiled in response, raising his wrinkled hand in a motion to silence the Senator. “Now now, my dear. You seem to forget that you lost the right to my respect the moment you committed treason against our beloved Empire.”
What?! That’s complete and utter shab! Is what she wanted to say, and something inside Padmé begged for her to race up the stairs towards the fool’s throne and knock him off, but she remained dignified. “If so, you lost your right to my respect the moment you abandoned our home planet in order to nourish your own ego and power,” Palpatine made no motion to stop Padmé as she swiftly lifted herself from her knees, defying his orders. Clenching her jaw, the Senator continued. “I stand by what I said, Sheev , you are no son of Naboo. You betrayed us, your own people. The little care you showed for our home during your drama of a time in the Senate was only to raise the support of the public - and it still is. If you are to kill me for my charges of ‘treason’, then make it quick. If I am to die knowing that I defended the people of the Galaxy, knowing that my bane was my love for the people and justice, knowing that I continued to fight even when I was told it would lead to my early demise, then I will die happy.
“I will die proud.”
Padmé finished her speech which, to her great surprise and disdain, moved Palpatine so little he began to let out weak, raspy laughs. Embarrassed, but not letting it show, Padmé waited out the worrying fits of laughter that echoed around the chamber. Wonderful, I’ve made a fool of myself.
“My dear Padmé,” Palpatine began once his cold laughter came to an abrupt standstill, his kind smile -if you could even describe it as such- returning once more, “you believe I wish to kill you? To have you executed in a public show that will allow the whole Galaxy to lie witness to your soiled honour? No no, Senator, despite what you have allowed yourself to believe, I do still hold an ounce of care for you. I was once your mentor, I guided you as you saved our home planet from a devastating blockade; I guided you during your time as Queen and as Senator. Despite our disputes, you’re still a great asset to the Empire.”
“What…” at a loss for words, Padmé could merely gaze blankly at the wall behind Palpatine, averting her eyes from the Imperial Propaganda that resided next to it. “Then - then what was with the whole arrest charade? What was the point of your guards dragging me out of the Senate kicking and screaming? Was it all for show? For some sort of sadistic pleasure you undoubtedly gain from seeing my reputation ruined? Was stripping me of my position worth it?”
Letting out a long, sorrowful sigh, Palpatine’s eyes met the Senator’s once more. “You could say such, my dear, but now is no time to dwell on the past-” Past? That happened mere hours ago… I think, Padmé internally berated herself for not keeping track of the time - and allowing Palpatine to make a fool of her! “As I said, you are a great asset to the Empire… but will be an even greater one once you agree to join me; once the wheels of my plan are set in motion…”
“Join you?” Padmé laughed, exasperated. “What makes you think I’ll ever join you . Of all people! I would rather dive head first into a Sarlacc Pit than even begin to contemplate joining you!” Her outburst yet again caused Palpatine to let out a low chuckle.
“You have a great, strong mind, my dear. Some of my men’s methods of persuasion are a little more… violent than what you’d be used to. I hope it doesn’t come to that, we wouldn’t want to dim that bright flame inside of your mind. Your cooperation is needed in order for things to go smoothly. In the meantime, you’re relieved from your position as Senator and must return to your cell - I have no use for you currently.”
With a swift flick of his bony fingers, the large doors reopened, allowing two senior looking Stormtroopers to march in. Knowing what to do, the two men grasped Padmé by the elbows, causing her to lose her balance slightly before she recomposed herself. “Take her to holding cell 20-16-02 in Block 4,” Palpatine barked, “Remain outside her cell and await further orders.”
And with that, Padmé was flipped around and led out of the great hall. Managing to keep up with the Troopers quick gait was already a tough task, but attempting to remember the path from the Throne Room to the Cell Blocks only doubled down on the impossible task. Halfway there she’d become completely disoriented, praying to the Gods that the Emperor would frequently require her presence just to mock her - then she’d be able to register the path a tad bit more.
This is my life now, she concluded once she was thrust into the dark and gloomy cell. While she would miss the luxuries that came with her well off lifestyle, she couldn’t help but wonder who would take her place. All of the new Senators within the Empire’s time had been corrupt, willing to do anything for a quick cash grab, even if that involved endangering the planet they stood for. The Senate was now nothing more than a symbol, a fake show of democracy - and that angered Padmé, who fell asleep pondering the countless Nubian politicians who could replace her.
“Anakin, my boy,” Chancellor Palpatine called, motioning to the young blond child who had just entered the room, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, father, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” the ten year old responded, eyes filled with pearly unshed tears as his gaze fell on the countless other adults at the table - some of them very drunk and very boisterous, “I didn’t know you had guests.” Eventually, his gaze fell to his bare feet, he was barely dressed to be in the presence of such guests, most of them being dignitaries and Senators his father often entertained.
As Anakin began leaving, his father spoke up, “Anakin! Don’t think it appropriate to leave now, I’m more sure more than a few of my guests would love to be introduced to my marvellous son,” after standing in the doorway for a few moments, Anakin turned, crystalline eyes meeting his father’s dull grey ones. “Come,”
Anakin did as he was told, afraid of the consequences if he didn’t. He knew the man wouldn’t punish him then and there for his misactions, but his fear for the future was ever present.
‘Don’t fret on the past, Ani, focus on now, the present, and the future,’ he remembered his mother, his real parent, telling him. That’s what he was doing. Very few would ever know of the Chancellor’s son, not until their plan was set in motion, Palpatine’s plan to reform the Republic into the first Galactic Empire -a feat which would occur on Anakin’s 16th birthday- then he would be introduced - but not as the Emperor’s adopted son, Anakin Skywalker, but his deadly weapon, Darth Vader. The child feared for that future, the enslavement of the Galaxy, that’s not what he wanted, that’s not what he stood for. But the fear of the consequences loomed over the child, pushing him to become the perfect machine the Emperor wanted.
Machine, that’s all I am, Anakin thought as he made his way up to his father’s chair. The older man stood and gave him an empty hug, ruffling the unruly mop of hair atop Anakin’s head. “Friends, meet my son, Anakin,”
“Master?” Vader said once he was allowed into the large Throne Room. He observed the two men who accompanied his legal father and guardian, neither of whom he knew personally, but he still recognised them as Senators Bail Organa and Mon Mothma. The two Senators turned at the sound of his presence, both holding looks of sheer fear and worry.
“Ah, Lord Vader,” Palpatine greeted as Vader moved forwards and knelt down on his right knee, “I trust your mission in the Outer Rim was successful?”
“Master Unduli is now being held in Fortress Inquisitorius, although I doubt she’ll be much use to us. Her will is strong, as is her belief in the Jedi ,” Vader spat the last word out like it was a deadly poison in his mouth. He rose when his master told him to, risking a brief glance at the two Senators now behind him. He was curious as to why his presence was needed during the Emperor’s meeting with the two, perhaps he was early? No, the Force had his exactly where he needed to be at the exact time, he was certain of it.
“Hm, I will take note of your thoughts, my apprentice,” Palpatine spoke as he turned his attention back to the Senators, Mon Mothma stiffening under his glare, “Have you met Senators Organa and Mothma?”
“Not personally, no, but I have attended gatherings with them,” the idea of being in the same room as Vader without knowing seemed to cause both Senators to become as stiff as a piece of japor wood. Their discomfort caused Vader to let out a light chuckle which neither of them took notice of.
“Good, are you aware of Senator Amidala’s recent arrest?” Palpatine probbed, his gaze returning to Vader. It was a foolish question, the arrest had made headline news within hours alongside titles such as: ‘Naboo Senator Arrested And Charged With Treason’ and ‘SENATOR AMIDALA: Traitor And Rebel Sympathiser’ - the majority of the articles holding far too much Imperial propaganda for Vader’s taste.
“Yes,” Vader replied all too quickly. Worry was beginning to brew in his belly, his master’s intentions towards Padmé clearly weren’t for her own benefit. He could already envision her death, perhaps she was already dead? Would the Emperor have already washed his hands of her? Rid himself of her meddlesome actions? Vader hoped so, because he already knew what his master’s sick plan would be if he hadn’t.
I’d have to do it.
“The Senators wish for her to be released,” Palpatine informed him, a sick smile twisting his lips upwards - he was greatly enjoying toying with his apprentice’s emotions, “Would you enjoy indulging to them why exactly the Former Senator Amidala has been taken into custody?”
After a deep, steadying breath, Vader explained: “She has committed treason against the Galactic Empire, she shall be held accountable for her crimes in any way Emperor Palpatine sees fit.”
“This is preposterous! The law states that you cannot hold her for longer than twenty-four hours unless she is charged - which she has not been! You have no evidence to support such small-minded claims!” Mothma cried, her palm falling on her chest as she reprimanded the two men. Bail Organa gave a slight nod of agreement with her.
“You forget yourself, Senator Mothma, I am the Emperor; I am not only above the law, I am the law. I will hold Amidala until I see fit, sufficient evidence be damned - she committed treason, so she will pay for her actions. I will assure you, although, that her life is not on the line.” Confused, Vader observed Palpatine’s words, going through them with a fine comb. Padmé wasn’t going to die? How come? Why not? She’d committed treason, that in itself is worthy of a death sentence! As much as Vader would like to rejoice at the revelation, he couldn’t help but be uneasy. Whatever plans Palpatine had, they had not been discussed with his most faithful aide, greatest confidante, his servant who would blindly do all he asked, Commander of his armies, apprentice and son.
“I have separate matters to discuss, be on your way, Senators; our meeting is adjourned,” Palpatine announced in a tired tone and as he watched the Senators leave, he turned to Vader. “You are confused, my apprentice, what worries you?”
“If I may speak out of term, I must ask two things:” Palpatine did nothing to object, silently allowing Vader to continue, “I am curious as to what Senator Amidala did to warrant her arrest. What act of treason did she perform to land herself in, presumably, our most high security jail?”
“The Former Senator questioned my judgement, she insulted me and my Empire, my aides - you,” Palpatine explained, his eyes lingering on Vader’s slightly aghast expression a little longer than needed, “I have dealt with her petulance far too long, she has remained an untreated thorn in our sides for longer than necessary. Your past protests were all that kept her alive, my boy. She was not just a weakness to the Empire, but to you, and that is unacceptable…”
Vader knew what he said to be true, Padmé was the first Senator to oppose the Empire, and in Vader’s teenage haste he had begged his father not to have her dealt with. His protests had kept her alive for three years, despite acts of treason she was already committing… the train of thoughts led him to his next question. “Is that why she’s still alive? Is that the reason she won’t be killed? Or is that something else you’re not telling me?” the accusatory tone was easily readable, Vader didn’t trust Palpatine.
“Not entirely, my boy. I will tell you my plan when I see fit, for now you will be left in the dark. Leave me now, I have other matters with others I must discuss.”
“You must rid yourself of these foolish connections, boy!” Count Dooku barked as another current of Force Lightning came into contact with the young teenager before him. He found the boy pitiful, a waste of space, a former and current slave in a different sense. He still felt compassion towards his mother, even after the four years of torture he’d endured. “Your compassion makes you weak, easy to use. Easy to harm and destroy. Believe me, there are pains far worse than physical torture... maybe soon, Sidious will grant you a taste of them.”
Anakin Skywalker cried out in pain as the lightning set his nerves alight, as it burned away his resolve and defenses. “Please,” he whimpered once it was over, once his body could take no more and was on the brink of unconsciousness, “just-just end it. K-kill me… I know you wa-want to…” his husky voice antagonised as Dooku leered over him, “Put us both out of our miser-mis-misery… get it-it over with! Kill me! It’s what we b-both want, what we n-need! Run me thr-through! Beh-ead me! Tear me limb to kriffing limb! Do whatever you kriffing want you son of a kriffing n-nerf!”
Dooku merely watched the child’s lame attempts at begging; the boy was weak, broken beyond repair, and Dooku didn’t want to fix him. His master’s words came back to him, causing him to sigh as he extended his hand. Eventually, the boy took it, allowing himself the chance to stand. Once he was steady, Dooku let go of him and led him to a medical bay.
“The girl,” Dooku said as he stood in the doorway, overlooking Skywalker as he was hooked up to a beeping machine and given some bacta.
“What girl?” Anakin spat, clearly unhappy due to his denied request. He was a short tempered child, that had to be noted, filled with anger and hatred, something gained over the past few years under Dooku’s wing. If he pushed his positive emotions aside, he would become the perfect Sith…
“The one you think of, the Queen of Naboo,” now knowing they were both on the same page, Dooku continued, “her two terms have come to an end. The people love her, a faction even tried to amend the constitution to allow her another term, but she denied their requests. The new Queen has asked her to serve in the Galactic Senate.”
“What did she say to that?” Anakin asked, interests clearly piqued.
“What do you think she said?” Dooku was surprised to see the boy simply shrug in response, gazing solemnly at the stark white wall.
“Yes, she’s the sort to dedicate her life to public service… she already has. That’s who she is… or who she was. She’s probably changed quite a bit. Maybe the events that endured while she was Queen has put her out of public service forever…”
“She said yes,” Dooku finished as he turned on his heel and left the boy to his foolish musings. That was information he would have wanted to know, what he would know if he were taught it. Thankfully for Dooku, the only matters the boy knew of were ones he was taught in private lessons and by Dooku. Surprisingly, Dooku had begun to care for the boy, more than his own adoptive father did.
Yes, he hated the child with a passion, but he recalled being young, being left in the dark. They had a similar distaste towards the Jedi and their Order, were both trapped under Sidious’ thumb…
Not for long, Dooku smugly thought to himself as he strode through the halls to report to his master. The Sepratist uprising was beginning to blossom, secretly enough for Sidious to be kept in the dark about it, but enough for the few who needed to know to know. Soon, he’d have the Galaxy to himself, just as he wanted… just as he needed.