TWENTY TWO

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Time seems to warp by, and Liana's life becomes incredibly mundane as she sits alone in the living room at sunset. She's nearly nine months pregnant, and her stomach has grown to be ridiculously large. There is absolutely no way to hide it, no matter how loose her gowns are. Her ankles swell, her breaths come more rapidly, and she finds herself constantly running to the bathroom due to her squished bladder as the twins grow inside of her womb. The two miracles.

The sunrise is rather beautiful tonight, with a wonderful orange glow casting all over the bustling transports and skyscrapers of Coruscant. Its beauty helps her ignore the dull pain in her womb. They were false contractions, the doctor had told her last week, to help prepare her for labor.

She holds a pen and paper as she dwells over baby names to discuss with Anakin. Luke, for a boy. And Lia, for a girl. No—maybe Leia would be better. She crosses out the latter before rewriting the list and turning back to the sunset. The clouds are thick and fluffy, and the sunset could nearly rival one of Naboo's.

Suddenly, she cannot help but feel homesick. Liana is sick of the city and yearns for a dip in the lake, or a bite of fresh grapes. The smell of sweet flowers and the sound of birds chirping on a lake breeze. She gets to her feet, ready to start packing at the thoughts alone.

Her heart yearns for Anakin. For the time they spent falling in love, so long ago. The sound of the elevator dinging gets her hopes up, yet the metallic clang of Threepio's footsteps makes her crestfallen.

"Mrs. Skywalker—" he chirps as his golden legs carry him over.

"Threepio, you must call me Ms. Liana or Ms. Amidala, remember? Only you and Artoo are allowed to know. It's a secret,"

"Of course, Ms. Liana," he corrects himself. "I have your dinner!"

"Thank you, Threepio," she smiles weakly, rising to her feet. Liana winces at the feelings of discomfort in her belly, but shakes it off. She really must return to Naboo soon.

She turns to her silver datapad, putting on a silly little hologram show with two obnoxious children starring in it. Liana watches halfheartedly, and can't help but picture her own children. What they may look like one day. She can't help but wonder if they'll be Jedi, like their powerful father.

After eating a bland meal that doesn't even come close to the delicacies of Naboo, Liana slowly gets to her feet to put the tray away, wincing in pain. Just as she begins moving, a gush of liquid trickles down her legs. She lets the tray drop to the floor, watching helplessly as the dinnerware shatters to pieces under the tray.

"Oh, Gods," she mutters, panic rising in her gut. The pain was not false contractions—but real ones.

"Miss Liana, what's this commotion?" Threepio demands, observing her. "What is the matter?"

"The babies," she manages. "They're coming—get the doctor, please, Threepio,"

"Oh! Right away!" he declares, hurrying out of the room.

She does her best to pick up her mess around her big belly, carefully avoiding the sharp pieces of china under the tray. Frustration arises in her as she struggles miserably.

Tears prick at her eyes as Liana sits carefully onto the couch, grapping her datapad. She hits a few buttons before dialing Ani. His hologram does not appear, and the datapad merely rings and rings. Liana ends the call, exasperatedly, and dials Padmè.

Her sister answers on the third ring, her small hologram appearing before her. "Liana?"

"The babies...are coming," Liana grits her teeth through the contractions slowly taking over her body. "Now."

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