Memoirs of a Sith Lord

Padme's List

The spiritual prison within which the Jedi held me was imperfect. Every so often, an opening formed and I was briefly free. The first time it happened, I found myself in the central throne room on Naboo. No one was present. I wasn't sure what drew me there, or if the Jedi sent me, but there are few places I'd rather visit.

I have many cherished memories of Padmé's youth which center on this location, but her fourteenth birthday stands out. It was then that the steel of her heart was shaped to its deadly purpose, and it was then that she was transformed from a girl to the woman I'd someday love.

The servants were laying out sweet treats for her party, and the palace of Naboo was decked with colorful banners. Carts wheeled through the streets distributing cakes to the people, and Padmé rode in a royal procession waving to the crowd--or at least, that's what her father thought.

The real Padmé remained inside the palace, hidden within the maze of secret passages. She watched through a crack in the stone as the Viceroy attempted to make her father sign a new agreement. Had it been signed, the document would have handed over much of Naboo to the Trade Federation's direct control. She listened as Senator Palpatine counseled her father not to sign.

The Viceroy tried every tactic imaginable--beguiling with flattery, threatening with blockade, and even open warfare. For once, however, her father, a man she had always regarded as weak-willed, stood his ground.

Her heart swelled with pride as she watched from her hidden alcove. Then the Viceroy said. "You have a daughter, don't you?"

"What?" her father said. "Will you stoop to threatening my family? The Jedi Council will hear of this!"

"No. I think she is now legally of age to rule this world. It should be far easier for me to sway a girl than an old man. After all, I am her trusted friend." He grinned with wide rubbery lips.

Padmé smiled as well. She was certain he believed that. Whenever she saw him, she brought out the Princess Theed doll that grandfather Hask had bestowed on her at her tenth birthday and gushed over it.

She watched as the Viceroy pursed his lips and made a high-pitched clucking noise. Suddenly a man, dressed as one of Naboo's own rebel forces, burst through the window weapon in hand.

Padmé's smile fell. She watched from the alcove, helpless, as the energy blast ripped through her father. A fraction of a second later, the palace guard brought the assassin down with stun rays.

How did Padmé react to watching her father's murder? To her credit, she didn't shed a tear. Instead, she studied the room in detail, and memorized every face. When the ceremonial transfer of power took place later that day, her first action was to get names to go with those faces, every representative of the Trade Federation present. Next, she ordered a pint of blood taken from her father's body, had it mixed with various resins and turned into ink. This she used to write the list of names.

The list remains today in a glass cabinet behind the throne. The letters are still red, and those sensitive to the Dark Side of the Force can feel her hatred lingering. I've often come here, reaching out with my feelings to savor that moment of Padmé's life. Here, more than anywhere else, I feel I can touch her.

Without warning, bands of energy rose from the ground and took hold of my spirit. I resisted, but to no avail. Yoda's spirit appeared, and he raised his hands releasing bright waves of luminous green energy. It wrapped me and carried me back to my spiritual prison.

But I don't need to be in the presence of the list to remember Padmé. I was and am a part of her through the Force. No matter what separates us.