Narrator's POV
- Three years later -
It seemed like forever.
It seemed like a variation of forever since the downfall of the Old Republic, since the galaxy became overthrown with a shadow of darkness, ruled with an iron fist by a Sith Lord that could only dream of an apprentice to mirror her brutal actions.
It seemed like forever since the Jedi were forced into hiding, since the Imperial battlestation with a superlaser caused fear to havoc throughout the galaxy, since Anakin Skywalker in his family were forced to navigate to Naboo where they would be... safe.
It felt like forever since the Jedi Order's last attempt to reestablish the Republic, their last attempt to destroy the Death Star...
It seemed like every time they tried, they failed.
Which was true.
It was a horrible thing, to watch the station looming in the sky, causing anxiety to rush through everyone's bones. They never were to know when a planet was in risk, was in sights... was to be destroyed.
Nobody would ever know besides the dark Lord behind it all - Emperor Demetrious.
When the green superlaser lights up in the sky, all the coordinate points connecting to form a straight laser - nothing in the galaxy is safe. Nobody is safe. Nothing.
When the laser starts, when the burst of an exploding planet can be heard throughout the galaxy, people begin to realize - nothing is safe anymore. The Galactic protectors - the Jedi - cannot do anything.
They can sit, they can watch, they can feel the impulse of millions, billions of lives lost, the breakage in the Force, the disturbance...
But they can't do anything.
And every day, every second it claws at them, terrorizing their thoughts for how quickly things came to a close.
How one girl comes into the picture; and destroys everything.
They sit, they feel the Force around them. They hear the screams of the people, sensing their times are up and there isn't a thing that they can -
And then... then they are gone.
Then all the millions of screams that ring out simultaneously, end in a long breakage, a forever lapse of... silence.
Bespin was a planet under the laser's impact. Bespin was a planet gone for no reason, simply for the Emperor's declaration of claiming her power.
And because of this, millions are gone, and billions are mourning.
Because of this, the galaxy isn't safe anymore.
Peace is a word only Naboo seems to hold onto, only Naboo seems to want to keep. Only Naboo, where Anakin Skywalker and his family reside anxiously, is where there still might be a small sliver of... hope.
Another word people don't say anymore.
The word is genuinely forbidden.
Because, well, when there is no hope to grasp onto, it's impossible to say so, for saying you have hope when you don't is one of the hardest lies to muster.
And since the destruction of Bespin a year ago, nobody has attempted destroying the Death Star any longer. The Order had ultimately ceased their trials out of fear they would lose more of their men and women, after already having lost a good handful.
The galaxy doesn't believe anyone can put a stop to the galactic disruptions. The galaxy believes this is truly the end. The galaxy thinks, for anyone to say they have hope, they ought to be out of their right mind.
And when the galaxy truly thought about it, and took what was going on around them into their mind, into their soul - they think, maybe it wouldn't be a curse to have a sliver of hope after all. Maybe there is someone, someone out there somewhere, that can stop this.
Anakin Skywalker believed to have been that person. Being named with The Chosen One, as well as the Sith Lord herself, he felt he had a place of honor, a place of worship. He felt as though he was truly important to the galaxy, and felt guilt that he had... let them down, with his padawan. The people believed he, the one to bring balance to the Force, could stop all this...
And frankly, so did he.
But nobody saw right through him the way his wife, former queen and senator of Naboo, Padmé Amidala, did. She was the one to witness him cry long nights, thinking Why me, out of everyone, why me?
She wasn't strong with the Force, but she could sense his troubles.
She could look him in his eyes, his pale blue, tear-stained shaking eyes, and tell him she believed in him to save and restore the galaxy. She could do it with this look in her eye, this tone in her voice that would make him feel like he deserved to hear the things she said, like everything she said was true.
And when she were to tell him she thought he could save everyone, she truly believed he was the one who could stop this, he didn't have a choice but to believe her.
Everyone believes angels, and she was his.
He uncovers his face from his hands and peers at her, her long, bouncy curls and her grief-stricken face, searching his features for a hint of confidence. And when she found none, she'd sit beside him and wrap her arm around him tightly, kissing his cheek as she told him just how much she loved and believed in him.
And he would cry, because around her he could be himself; he could be weak, because she would love him anyways. He could be selfless; and she would love him always. He could be broken; and she would be right there to calm him, to inform him just how wonderful he was in her eyes.
When he were to look at her, one of the only things keeping him going, it seemed like he could stop himself for a moment. Pause time and let himself think about everything that was going on. He would do this; he would stop, he would ask himself What am I doing? I have to be strong, I have to be strong for Luke and Leia... and the second the wobbly toddlers were to appear from any corner of the ginormous lakeside resort of Padmé's on Naboo, he would cease once and for all.
When he looked at them, he saw her - when he looked at Leia, it was a spitting image 0f his angel. When he looked at Luke, his sweet son, he could see his eyes and her nose. Her stubbornness in the toddler. Her. She was everywhere, surrounding him, a true element of the Force.
He couldn't be more thankful that she was always there. With him. Guiding him.
He couldn't be more thankful that, through the darkness that enclosed them like a dome, keeping them from true happiness, she was there.
He could never thank her, and she would never ask for it - it was simply her desire, to help him, to make sure that they loved each other with every piece of their aching hearts.
With every look, every glance, every care for their children, they started to feel more like a family who was at peace, who could say the words peace and hope freely without being shunned, without being segregated from the pessimists of the galaxy - who had outnumbered the optimists.
And even if they did feel they could be safe, Anakin was on Naboo with them rarely - he would have to depart in order to maintain on the Council, in the Order, meeting with them every once in awhile on Coruscant to discuss matters as they furthered.
Matters as they stopped.
Nothing has happened since the destruction of Bespin.
But that doesn't stop the Order from taking precautions.
They stand strong, bold, unafraid. They stand in unison, with one another, ready to take on the Empire and the Death Star.
They are rebels.
And at long last, they are ready to bring down the very thing that has caused so much fear, so much pain, so much suffering.
But the second Anakin walks in the door of the Naboo lakeside home again, he is confused. He is always confused, always wondering if he should be proud of his work with the Council to take on the Death Star - or if he should be in fear of the Sith Lord tracking his three-year-old children.
She embraces him now; it is quiet, peaceful at first until the children join, abrupt and bouncy as they might, stumbling on their feet that barely support the weight of their heads.
He lifts them up and kisses them; more than happy to see they are all alive, they are all well, they are all still safe.
He cherishes the moments they are safe, for the fear of losing them still clouds his mind.
When he sets his children down, his Force-sensitive toddlers that know there is something wrong, that can sense the fear, the pain, the worry, he embraces his angel again.
It feels like years ago, when they were reunited after the Chancellor's rescue, when it felt like a lifetime without one another.
He holds her, grateful for having her, grateful for himself, knowing he is part of the reason she is safe, she is alive, and she whispers to him, she tells him how afraid she was, how afraid the children were.
"We missed you," and her voice is as quiet as the silence that rung out from the destroyed Bespin, but a sweet tone. A worried tone; afraid. Trembling.
He closes his eyes, taking in her scent, her touch, her very embrace and presence. He whispers back to her, his voice low and raspy, distraught. "I'm okay. I'm always okay. I'm - so glad to see you three are well."
And she says nothing, taking in his embrace more than she ever had, as she never knew when would be her last chance to hold him, to feel his heartbeat against her ear or his chin atop her head; his arms around her body or his breath steady against hers.
Moments fly by and they are alone, their children are asleep. They stand on the balcony, when it is quiet. When no screams of children can be heard, when no planetary explosions are there in the distance. There is no haunting silence.
They watch everything around them, how peaceful it all seems. The word circles them, touches them barely. It is there.
She turns to him, her gaze soft but welcoming. She missed him, she really did. She couldn't express it enough. For a moment, she is lost in his features: his wavy hair that had gotten somewhat longer, but not much; his tired blue eyes, sad but not lonely; his lips that are embraced, not left alone.
She watches him for long, unsure of what to say to him. They sit a distance apart, he is watching Naboo and she is watching him, until he turns to her.
"What?" he asks, and his voice is raspy. Tired, clearly. He needs sleep.
She shakes her head. Every movement hurt; her head aches from the pain of missing her beloved, and now that he is with her again, now that he is here, it is fading slowly, but still looming. "Nothing," she answers, and it is the truth; not a word can describe what she feels looking at him, watching his tiny movements in the depths of the night.
But something is clearly troubling him, so he mentions it. "Remember years back, when Demetrious threatened to take Luke?"
And at his words she realized how much he hated Demetrious; the way he spit the word like it was poison showed his hate, though his hatred was limited, it was there, for her, for this Sith he once knew and had accepted was gone. For this Sith that struck him with electricity, slamming him against a wall until a breath felt like he was born again. For this Sith that threatened to take his child.
At his words she realized how much he loved Luke. It was in his eyes, his expression, his tone.
"I remember." She looks down at her slippers, her pale blue, silk slippers that took away from everything else.
But she looks up again, and he is no longer looking at her. He is staring off at the lake, his gaze focused. Concentrated.
"I think about that every day. I wonder if she knows where we are, if she knows where Luke is and is still planning to... take him."
Padmé looks at him now, watching him. He isn't going to cry; she feels as though he is too strong for that now. So she nears him, softly at once, resting her head on his shoulder as they sit beside one another on one of the couches that reminded them so vividly of their old apartment in Coruscant. Their home that they knew one day, they would be back to.
"That isn't going to happen," she tells him, her voice calm, assured.
He sighs, and she feels his body move with his exhale, his shoulders tight with tension as her chin rests upon it. She looks up at him, and he looks down at her. She closes her eyes lightly as he plants a kiss upon her forehead, a smile spreading weakly across his lips. "I know," he replies, but it isn't believable, it isn't real - "But it still terrifies me."
She knew he would say such a thing.
But she lets it go, and instead savors her time with him. She watches everything around her, desperately trying to pretend as though there wasn't an Empire upon them, as though the Death Star and Demetrious never existed. She tried to pretend as though they were back on Naboo, before the war, before the hate, before the downfall.
For a moment, it seems real.
For a moment, she holds onto it, the feeling that everything is restored.
She smiles, thinking of this, thinking of pure happiness. He looks at her, craning his neck slightly to see her closed eyes, her smile across her lips.
He smiles too, thinking of only one thing: my angel.
And even this amount of years later, the fear that his son would one day be taken by the Empire overwhelmed him, drowning him day by day.
• • •
She was full of rage.
For the past three years, she was full of rage. Full of hate. Full of emotions that led her to destroy a planet, full of emotions that led her to overthrow Kamino, seize their plans of creating more Clones.
She had an army bigger than ever imagined, and she wasn't satisfied.
She wanted, she needed, an apprentice.
Her gloved hand smacks the metal desk. The ear-splitting sound roars, echoing through the Imperial Cruiser's makeshift control room, startling the Clone she was speaking to.
He stands with a tracker in his hand, his posture tall. He wasn't afraid of her; but he didn't ask questions either.
She stands, her dark hair brought into a ponytail, long and slick, her eyes a sickening, yellow color, deeper and darker than the radiating suns on Tatooine. She was angry. She was infuriated.
And when she spoke, the Clone didn't move, for he had heard her when she angry numerous times before. And although she was most angry now, sometimes it just couldn't compare.
He looked at her through his helmet. She was mad.
"Where are they?" she bellows, and her voice no longer sounds like that of a twenty-one-year old woman, but rather a cruel, sick and twisted Sith Lord. She takes her gloved hand off the metal desk, after slamming it so hard it left a dent.
The Clone doesn't hesitate. He flips the tracker open, but gets no response. "I'm attempting to locate them, My Lord. It appears they have a blocked tracker themselves - "
"FIND THEM." Her voice is strong, loud. Clear. The Clone thinks it might've been powerful enough to break the glass of the Cruiser's windows.
But he obeys. He nods, though he has to ask a question. He is unafraid. She can kill him if she wishes. "Do you request the female, or the male offspring of Skywalker?"
It would be important for him to know. He would have to capture them, along with a group of Clones sent for the mission.
But over the course of three years, Demetrious had done some thinking. She didn't want Luke, she wanted Leia - a girl, just as strong in the Force as her brother. She could raise her, train her in the ways of the Sith - it was a foolproof plan. She would soon have her apprentice - a young girl, just as naïve as she was when she made her transition.
Perfect.
"I want - the girl," Demetrious hesitates, but at last she knows. Finally she had realized that Leia would be her shot, her chance to rule the galaxy furthermore with the fist of iron, an apprentice that was worthy of knowing everything in the realms of the Sith.
The Clone knows she speaks the truth. He nods, knowing fully what he must do. "Have you found them yet?" asks Demetrious, causing the Clone to become startled by her tone.
He shakes his head. But then he stops.
"My Lord," he breathes through his helmet, "I'm getting something."
"What is it?" she snaps, staring at the tracker in his hands.
He looks down at the words across the screen, the location that was being displayed in big, alarming red letters to grasp his attention - NABOO.
"Naboo, My Lord."
"Does the tracker tell you that?" Demetrious insists, her tone gradually increasing in excitement she urged to hide. She would at last have her apprentice - the girl was only a baby, but it would take time to raise her as... her own. Her own Sith apprentice.
Apprentice. The word was music to her ears.
"Yes, My Lord." The Clone's words bring her from he thoughts and replace her into the real world, the real galaxy, the real Imperial Cruiser.
She is stunned for a moment, realizing at last that they have found them. That she will have what she had wanted for years, she will get the apprentice, the student, the girl she needed to fulfill her Empire, to reach her needs. The girl would help her, thrive her, and above all, grant her more power.
Leia Skywalker was just what she needed.
"Then go," Demetrious orders, "Get the girl. You know what to do. And make sure Skywalker doesn't get in your way in the process." The word Skywalker was spit in fury, hatred for the man's family, the man that once controlled her.
As the Clone released a fighter from the hangar, along with a group of twelve other Clones, Demetrious watched them leave. She watched the fighters leave from the hangar to drift through hyperspace, reaching their way to Naboo where they would locate and retrieve the final puzzle piece to the Empire, the final element, the final structure.
And never did Demetrious truly delve in the fact that it would be Anakin Skywalker's daughter, Leia.
A/N: Another update! Woohoo! So, yes, this is three years later. I know, I know, big jump, kind of sudden, but it makes sense. Remember, all we're focusing on is Luke and Leia - they're three now, so it makes things more exciting. They can barely talk, but they can move around freely on their own and have a better understanding of things - they are Force sensitive, after all.
So how about this plot twist?! I bet you all thought it was gonna be Luke... nope!
Sorry Leia.
Really, I'm sorry.
Got some great update ideas coming up, so stay tuned!
Thanks for reading!
xoxo
- Claudia